Making A Big Stink
by kataract52
Summary: Years after eloping, Gambit and Rogue discover their marriage isn't binding. What should've been a simple event's now snowballed into an uncontrollable monster as everyone wants to be a part of their day. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Notes: **This story is a huge departure for me. It's told from Gambit's POV, which intimidated me, but I don't think I butchered it too much. It's just another Rogue-and-Gambit tie the knot piece. In my version, they already married a few years prior in Scotland. At the time, Gambit's oldest daughter, Honor, was detained at Muir Island. Rogue was pregnant and very sick, so she and Gambit eloped. Since then, they've raised a family together, only realizing years later that their marriage isn't legally binding. Some characters here are original and come from my other stories like Honor Saga and The Ballad, but you don't need to have read those to follow this one. Ollie and Becca come from The End and GeNext spin-offs, but they're petites here. It's really just some ROMY fun, which leads me to my next point... WARNING! Lots of graphic sex. I don't have the next chapter written yet. It'll be a while before it gets posted – if I ever post it. So if you like, please review. Maybe it'll move me along. Enjoy!

**Making a Big Stink**

_I took all those habits of yours  
That in the beginning were hard to accept.  
Your fashion sense, Beardsley prints,  
I put down to experience._

_The big bosomed lady with the Dutch accent  
Who tried to change my point of view.  
Her ad-lib lines were well rehearsed  
But my heart cried out for you._

_And there have been many affairs,  
Many times I've thought to leave.  
But I bite my lip and turn around,  
'Cause you're the warmest thing I've ever found._

_You're in my heart, you're in my soul.  
You'll be my breath should I grow old.  
You are my lover, you're my best friend.  
You're in my soul  
~You're In My Soul, Rod Steward_

Her slender hands slid around my waist and followed the apex down to my erection. Sometimes, just her scent on my pillow was enough to provoke a reaction. All the years we spent separated by the flesh that yearned to unite… All the years of carefully placed intimacy… We had so much time to make up for: sensations to try and babies to make. She crawled under the covers and I pulled my boxers down to accommodate her. We knew each other so well now that we moved like two parts of one mind: in or out of bed. Predictability doesn't mean tediousness: that's been my life's hardest lesson. Other women would get frustrated when I made sexual suggestions; they were embarrassed to try anything new. But my Anna knows just what to do. She learned everything from me, which trilled my soul. She was worried about not being any good… _Ridiculous!_ For the first time in my life, I was hesitant to expose my lusts and desires. She was so pure; I didn't want to be the corruptor. Turns out, I was naïve as well. Poor girl had spent twenty-some years keeping her hands to herself, and she was ready to make up for lost time. If I hadn't known so personally about her inexperience, I would never have guessed it. She knew how to grind her hips, where to place her kisses, and when to moan. She liked to be on top, and she liked to make love half-dressed… But she _loved_ oral sex. She stroked my cock, pulling it down towards her and cupping my balls. I could feel her breath between my legs, and spread my knees. She kissed the tip of my penis, but didn't take it in her mouth. Little vixen. She increased her speed and then slowed down again; her other hand still massaging my testicles. Feeling her shift below me, I groaned with anticipation. Instead of giving me what I wanted, she only licked the shaft. Her little tongue, wet and warm, lapped it's way up and shadowed kisses. I was panting now, with my legs wide open like a whore. Finally, her mouth gripped onto the head of my cock. I gave a long, quiet moan. The tension ebbed briefly, and then built again. Finally, I had the warm cavern of her mouth, but now I wanted to thrust into it. I wanted to be buried in her tight, sweet body. She didn't oblige, but pumped the shaft while sucking on the head. Then she took as much as she could hold – about half – and pulled back very, very slowly while sucking.

"_Oh_, _putain_," I groaned. It was all I could say.

I can't even remember all the women who've sucked me off, but Anna's the best. Whores and porn stars could take a lesson from her. I can't even take credit for teaching her; she does things I've never even imagined. The slow, intense pressure brought tears to my eyes, and I begged for her.

"My love…" she whispered before shoving her tongue down my throat.

She straddled my hips, and my cock stretched until it reached the satin lips of her cunt. She lowered herself, trying to take it all in one thrust, which was impossible. If her mouth was tight, her cunt was tighter still, and always required a little probing to access. Her fingers locked with mine, and held my hands against the mattress. I felt like we were truly connected now: my cock in her cunt, her tongue in my mouth, and our palms pressed together. We were more than our bodies, somehow. Finally, she'd taken all of me, and her ass brushed my balls. It was still a tight fit, and we groaned together. She began thrusting her hips, and I could tell from her quick breath and the desperate way she clung to me that she wouldn't last long. I matched her pace and tried to put my mind somewhere else. Otherwise, I'd finish too soon. I pulled her sleeping shirt off and grabbed her breasts, twisting her nipples. I felt her cunt release hot, sticky cum, and she clenched even tighter. She fit on me like a glove that was too small, and I always worried about hurting her. But the pleasure was mutual.

"Remy," she cried, "Ah – Ah-!"

I put a hand between us and let my thumb brush her clit. Her body rocked with little, violent spasms, and inside, her cunt rippled and grew wetter around me. I waited until she finished before I let myself come. I've heard that women are more fertile after an orgasm. Maybe it's just a myth; I really wouldn't know. Anna's on birth control, anyway. After our son's death, she said she didn't want any more children. I don't have grounds for argument: I'm not the one carrying and delivering our litter. But there's nothing I enjoy more than making babies with her… And I know if she'd get pregnant, she'd feel the same way. She's just gun shy now – that's all.

After our encounter, we laid together in the darkness. My hand drifted down to her womb, where my seed had been planted. I prayed that her birth control would fail, and we'd have another child. If it were a girl, we'd name her Antoinette.

.::.

While Honor and Renegade set the table, I helped Anna in the kitchen. The petites were playing nosily in the living room. The three of them together weren't as obnoxious as Megan or Alex Summers, Jr.

I know every parent favors their own child, but mine really are extraordinary. My eldest is a musical genius; and just because the 'musical' precedes the 'genius' doesn't make her any less intelligent. This year she won a nation-wide competition between thousands of child prodigies. Taking the blue ribbon came with a nice chunk of money, guest-starring in several symphonies, and a four-year scholarship to the Manhattan School of Music… But I wouldn't be disappointed if I had to pay for Juilliard. My son has his mother's temper, and the gonads to back it up. Being my only boy, he's a breath of fresh air. Girls are secretive and cunning. If you piss them off, you've got to _ask_ to know about it. Otherwise, it'll bite you on the _derriere_ long after you've forgotten about it. But not with Ollie. Anna was never like that, either: one of the loveable things about her. Becca's the baby: the most like me. I've been a father long enough to know you don't _tell_ your children things like that – they think it's favoritism. But others say it often enough _for_ me, usually in a negative tone. She's quiet, so I didn't realize how much we were alike for a while. She's spent the first four years of her life observing, and now she's spewing up all her knowledge. It's too late to try and correct her: she already knows more about the world than those straight-laced Summers'. The twins are extremely clever in their own ways. Ollie can talk his way out of (or into) any situation, and Becca is usually tinkering away with some instrument or invention. I'm resourceful with what I have, but her ability to create something from nothing comes from Anna.

We want our kids to thrive just as much as Honor has.

Beast suggested an Academy for our tots, which is supposed to "cultivate young minds". I wasn't enthusiastic about it. Schools don't educate so much as they destroy the desire to learn, and "early-education" is just a form of child-abuse funded by well-meaning parents. After all, who taught Honor how to play piano? She learned it herself. Who taught Becca how to build a working robot from discarded computer and car parts? She did! Who taught Ollie how to use words to coax favors?

But Anna said: "They're so smart already. Just imagine what they could do with a little help! We said we wanted the best for our kids, Remy… How could an early education hurt 'm?"

I didn't have the most normal up-bringing, so my opinions are skewed. Anna, being the saner of us, would never harm them. So I relented: thinking my harsh view of organized education is based only on my harsh experiences. Maybe it would help Olls and B-Beb. After all, Honor's talents had grown exponentially since taking lessons with Mr. Anderson.

"How de interview wit' de Academy go?" I asked while seasoning the jambalaya and putting the onions on to simmer.

"Oh!" She shook her head. "Knew Ah was forgettin' something! Ah went down there-"

Hero ran into the kitchen, crying and holding her elbow. She was my ex-wife's youngest child, and a pretty little girl, if plagued with issues. She was deaf and mute, but brave and sweet, too. I don't know how any man could leave her behind. I would've been proud to call her my child. Mercifully, her mother was working late. Belle had the type of personality you could only agree with if you agreed to everything she wanted. The house was always less tense when she wasn't around. Through a series of crises, Anna and I had been forced to live in close proximity with Belle through most of our marriage… First 'On was sick, and then Anna had trouble carrying the twins, then I nearly died… Now the kids are bonded, and Honor's only got another two years before she leaves for college. After that, we can go back to Valle Soleada and our house by the beach.

"What's the matter?" Anna asked Hero. "Hurt your elbow?"

Hero nodded, her white-gold curls shaking.

Anna kissed her invisible wound and told her to play more carefully. Then she returned to stirring the vegetables. "Ah went down there today, and turns out – we ain't married!"

I turned to her, but my eyes caught Honor's instead. She looked as shocked as I was.

"_Ain_? 'Course we married! In Scotland!"

"Turns out, that's only biddin' if one of us were Scottish."

"We married in de Church!"

"But not in the eyes of the American government. It ain't no big thing, sugah," She shrugged. "Just a paper oversight. All we gotta do is go down to the courthouse, sign the license and be done with it. All this time I've been callin' myself Mrs. LeBeau, I'm still Miss Raven!"

"Don't t'ink about havin' one last fling, _chere_. I don't care what soil we on, you m' wife."

"Never thought Ah'd see the day when Remy LeBeau was rushin' to put a ring on! What day's good for you? We'll probably need the afternoon."

"If Belle take de _petites_, we do it on Friday."

Anna shook her head. "This Friday's no good. Next Friday?"

"_D'accord_."

Honor entered the kitchen with a glass in each hand. Renegade, Belle's adopted son, came in behind her with extra glasses, which they began filling with ice.

"You guys eloped _last_ time!" My daughter complained, as if she'd been party to the conversation all along. "You don't think _Jean-Luc_ would like to see you get married? You don't think your _kids_ want to be there?"

Just like her mother, Honor's a master of emotional blackmail.

"Ah s'pose we could have a dinner afterwards…" Anna relented. "With just the family; nothin' too big."

"Nothing too big!" Honor echoed with glee.

.::.

The next morning, we all went our ways. Honor and Renegade went to the school where Anna and I use to mentor. She still works there, but as a mechanic rather than a combatant. Belle went to her bookkeeping job, and the petites stayed at home with Lena, their nanny. Despite all my promises to Anna and my kids, going straight was harder than I thought. They thought I worked with Stormy, who led the legal-side of the X-Men. And sometimes I really did work for her… But our biggest source of income was the side hires: finding someone who didn't want to be found or acquiring an item not for sale.

Today was a legal day.

"I have a task, if you feel up to it," Ororo said. "Shaw is gathering a party in lower Manhattan. We believe the European Inner Circle will be there, although we do not know why. An international conference is highly unusual. It would be to our benefit to know what is happening. Do you accept?"

"Sorry, Stormy… Sounds time consumin', and I'm getting' married next week."

She did a double-take. "Does your _wife_ know?"

"Turns out, we ain't married after all. Lucky she ain't Emma or I be buyin' another ring!"

She smiled sadly. "Many marriages and children… Truly, the Goddess has shown you favor."

.::.

When I returned home that night, I could feel something amiss in the air. Inside, Honor was crying in the living room. Belle was with her, and immediately shot me a look: '_Where have you been?'_

"What happen?" I asked.

Anna came in from the kitchen, carrying a glass of water, which she handed to Honor.

"Got a call from New Orleans…" Anna started.

"And?"

"Chaucer Prideaux's been killed," Belle finished.

He was Honor's suitor: her acquaintance, but not a friend and certainly not her lover. I could only deduce that she was crying because she had a kind and generous heart, and not because she was truly mourning.

"What happen? He not die of old age like de last one."

"_Remy_!" Belle snapped. "Dis ain't no time for jokes!"

"It was… a mission…" Honor sobbed. "In Russia… His ship sank… Momma, what's gonna happen to the Guild?"

"Trust me, _chere_, I been right where you at. I don't know what we gonna do, but we figure somet'ing out. De Guild gonna survive dis."

Of course, it was the _Guild_ she wept for. This marriage, which her mother arranged entirely without me, was to secure a rivalry within the Guild. Since no one in my clan approved this arrangement, it's validity was in question. My late brother's widow actually went medieval and cursed Honor's womb and Chaucer's seed so that nothing could ever come from their union.

"And now…" Honor hiccupped. "Everyone's gonna think Tante Mercy was behind it…"

She wasn't wrong.

I hadn't planned on inviting Mercy to my wedding, but she needed a solid excuse to get out of New Orleans until the heat was off. While I was planning my wedding, Chaucer's poor father was planning a funeral. Without a body, there wasn't much point in a burial. His little family just held a memorial service, much like the one Anna and I had for our stillborn son, Henri. Some people speculated that Chaucer was still alive: cast away on some deserted Russian island, but his father didn't believe that. He knew his boy was dead, and he was one foot in the grave with him.

Honor seemed to recover quickly enough, though I'm not complaining.

.::.

Since Honor and Renegade were out with their friends, Belle made a simple dinner of spaghetti and salad. Easy enough to make: not so easy for petites to eat. The twins were covered in sauce! Anna and I carried them down the hallway like a pair of smelly diapers. She stripped them while I ran the water: not too hot or Ollie would refuse to get in; not too deep or Becca would worry about drowning; and an arm full of bath toys. They climbed in of their own accord: Ollie carefully testing the temperature with a toe before complying.

"You find a restaurant for next Friday?" I asked her.

"Yeah, actually… What'd you think about renting the Evelyn Rose? It's the only place big enough for everyone."

I stopped mid-reach for wash cloths. The Evelyn Rose was a restaurant on a yacht in Long Island. I'd never been there, but it sounded expensive.

"Big enough? T'ought we agreed on just de _family_."

"Well, _you're_ family's comin' in from all over. If Mercy's gonna be there, you know dern well Belle'll expect an invite. And she'll bring _all_ her youngin's. Ah called Momma… She says she'd rather get thrown down a hill in a barrel full of nails and then set on fire, but Ah wouldn't count her out. Ah didn't want the boat to capsize, so Ah had to invite _someone_ for my side!"

Inside, I groaned. This is why we got married: so we could start our _own_ family. She didn't have anyone, and I had a family tree full of nuts. Somehow, she seemed even _more_ upset about her lack of roots since the twins came along.

"Papa!" Ollie whined, "Wash cloths, please!"

I complied, handing them each a little rag. They were old enough now to wash themselves, although they usually didn't.

Rogue sat patiently on the floor while they splashed and played. "Ah invited the X-Men."

"And if dey all sit on _m'_ side?"

She smiled, and family politics seemed a little less important. "So ya might wanna get a suit." She turned her attention back to the kids, taking the wash cloths and soap bar. "All right, kiddies, time to get clean!"

.::.

"A suit? A _suit_!" I vented to Beast, who was the only man around with any sense.

Cyke blew his kid's college funds so his soon-to-be-ex-wife could serve Dom Perignon at their wedding, and Wolverine had everyone fly to the other side of the planet for a wedding that never happened… Then, at the other end of the specter: Bobby Drake, who was proof that not everyone had a soul mate, and Professor Xavier, who'd thrown away many a fine woman for his *dream*. But Hank fell in love with a gorgeous woman – a little on the dull side, but her seriousness was balanced by his _joie de vivre_. He courted her quietly, and then eloped. No one knew what went on in their relationship, which is how it should be. My own love affairs were nothing if not messy… This not-being-married-to-my-wife was the latest in a series of messy events.

Hank chuckled and shook his head. "When love is not madness, it is not love."

"You said it, _homme_!"

"Actually, that was Pedro Calderon de la Barca… But if I may impart some words of my own, I think you may expect a small, pre-celebratory celebration. Given completely by surprise, of course."

"Why? You t'ink I not live it up enough b'fore I marry?"

"Not my idea, my friend. I only mean to warn you that Rogue is not the only one getting carried away."

.::.

Since the girls wanted new dresses and I had to find a suit, Anna and I didn't get our usual Friday night date. But being married hadn't dulled my romantic sentiments. Saturday night, I made sure Lena knew to keep the petites in their room and set up dinner on Anna's balcony. It was too windy for candles, but you'd be surprised what some flowers and wine can add. I made her favorite: fried chicken with macaroni and cheese, collard greens and peach cobbler for desert. The meal was paired with a sweet, white wine, and after one glass she was as bubbly as champagne.

"That's why ya love me," she smiled, her cheeks flushed. "Ah'm a cheap date!"

"_Mais_, glad you're wasted, 'cause I brought you up here t' propose and I'm sweatin' like a whore in church."

She choked on her drink and hit me. "Remy!"

I tried not to laugh at her; she was hanging on the table like a drunk. Whenever she was entirely carefree (like she was now), her face lit up like our children's. I thought I loved her when we married four years ago. I didn't know what love was; I was only beginning to understand. Love was the reason I held Honor when she was up all night crying for her dead mother. It was why Anna reclaimed her powers, and why she learned to control them. Ultimately, it was why I stood still at the altar for a second time – less dreadful but still terrifying, and it was why I built this house for Belle and Anna and our children. Sometimes I went days without thinking about the people I'd killed or the lives I'd ruined. Before Anna, I couldn't live more than a few minutes without remembering the horrible things I'd done. I thought maybe I deserved to die. But she's given me something _more_ than dark memories.

I didn't know all this four years ago.

I don't know if she realizes it yet; I've never found the words to tell her. I'd hate to finally expose this new, deeper love in a room full of friends, family and strangers. It should be kept between us.

"I be glad when dis whole t'ing over. Don't know how we get talked int' doin' a show."

"Mah dress is _beautiful_, sugah," she said dreamily. "Just wait till ya see it… And the _flowers_! Had to pay a little extra to get them on such short notice, but Ah think it's worth it."

"You _femmes_ go nuts for a weddin', _non_?" I poured myself another glass of wine.

"Well, ya only get one! 'Cept this one time… If Ah'd known we were gonna get married that Christmas Eve, Ah would _not_ have worn blue jeans!"

"We coulda gotten you a dress, chere."

"Nah… Ah was kinda in a hurry. Figured if Ah gave you too much time to think about it, you'd change your mind!"

"Dat stings, Anna. You t'ink I not wanna marry you?"

"You didn't seem to put a lot of thought into it," She said. "Ah didn't get a ring or anything! Ah mean, ya didn't even tell your _daughter_ we were getting' married. Why? Did ya think Ah'd say _no_?"

"Look, _chere_, I was just bein' impatient. I didn't really wanna make a big stink over tyin' de knot, I just wanted t' _do it_. Doesn't mean I don't care. If you wanna big weddin', we wait an' do dis later. You can have de dress, de band – whatever you want."

"And leave _you_ on the market? Ah don't think so."

I walked and she staggered back inside, where she immediately began stripping her clothes. People think I exaggerate – she really is insatiable! First the dress, then the slip comes off. She smiles at me, her tight, slender body covered only by her bra and panties. I'd lie if I claimed not to care how motherhood would affect her body, but she recovered with remarkable speed. Her hips are broader now: the bones pushed apart during labor. And her breasts are heavier now: they never fully deflated after losing Henri. They couldn't still be holding milk; he died almost two years ago. Otherwise, her body bears no evidence of children. She doesn't even suffer stretch marks: a rare benefit of being a mutant. Her thighs and ass and stomach are all as firm and strong as the first time I touched them. And, yes, even her vagina recovered.

I watch her now, using her body to seduce me.

"You're drunk," I reminded her.

"Ah did all the work _last_ time," she said. "Get over here."

She crawled from the foot of the bed to the head, her ass beckoning me to follow. Then she collapsed and smiled at me. I grabbed the two cords across her hips and pulled down her black G-string. The garment quickly transformed into a twisted mess of floss, which I tossed over my shoulder. Her sex was nearly bare: only a thin layer of fuzz covered her. I opened her lips and tasted her, giving her my whole mouth at first and then backing away. She wrapped her legs around my head and gripped my hair with her fingers. She was oddly sensitive tonight – alcohol always left her eager for love. Her cunt was already soaking wet, and when I slid a finger into her ass, it was uncomfortably hot. She groaned and arched her back.

"You like dat?"

I moved my finger in and out, feeling her muscles clench and tighten. At first, she just grunted, but then she answered: "Yes… yes… yes!" Her words matched my thrusts, so I knew she liked it _a lot_. She pulled me up and ripped my clothes off. Her emerald eyes were dark with desire, and once my cock was exposed, she spread her legs for me. _Mon Dieu_, this woman was incredible! My heart swelled with love for her, and I tried to hold her and tell her how I felt.

"Just fuck me, Remy!" she moaned.

"I tryin' t' tell you, _chere_… Dat I love you. I don' never love nobody like you…"

I held her face and stroked her hair, but I couldn't make love to her. If I did that, she'd think my words were just sweet nothings, and they meant a great deal.

"Love me in mah ass," she said, trying to pull me inside of her.

"_Non_… Anna! I'm sorry I married you four years ago 'cause I didn't know what love was. T'ought I did, but I didn't. But bein' wit' you and raisin' our kids has given me a heart. I want you t' know what you mean t' me."

"Sugah…" She rubbed the tip of my cock against her rear entrance. "Ah know. Now spit."

I was an anal-sex virgin, and spitting on her seemed degrading. She coated a dildo with KY lubricant, and slid it easily into her ass. I took the instrument from her and worked it in and out. God, she was tight there, too, and the purple phallic tool got lodged several times. Nearly sprained my wrist trying to please her. Maybe another man would've been eager to give the lady what she wanted, but frankly, I was scared. She was like a vice. She rubbed her swollen clit until she climaxed, which happened in record time. She really seemed to enjoy it. Then she looked up at me with heavy-hooded eyes and smiled. While removing her dildo, she tensed up, and then sighed once it was out. I felt a little guilty about putting my penis against her ass: it was swollen and moist, but she didn't object. Lying on her back, she looked half-asleep. Her strong, lean legs wrapped around my torso and pulled me closer. I had to hold her open and force my way in. There was no other way to do it. At first, she was painfully tight, and her body tried to resist me. A few sweet words made her limbs relax, but her involuntary barriers were harder to control. Her body wouldn't let me more than half-way in, and every time I pulled out, she closed up as tightly as a virgin.

Her words weren't very encouraging, either. She was clearly crying out in pain, but every time I tried to stop, she insisted I keep going. I felt like a rapist and she was my wife; I wanted to stop. Suddenly, something shifted. I could move with ease, and she gasped with pleasure. Encouraged now, I dared to go deeper. Her body didn't resist me, and we both moaned contently. I could feel the vibrations move through our bodies together, as if we were one entity. Her body dampened the sheets with sweat and cum, and beads of moist exhaustion dripped from my nose and chin and chest. I was so hot even the soles of my feet were sweating – I didn't know that was possible. I held on to her slick body and fucked her. Sheer pleasure rippled through me. It wasn't just her screams of ecstasy, which alone could've driven me over the edge. And it wasn't because of the way her skintight, molten body gripped me, either. What really got me off was the intense emotional storm brewing between us. I was high on power and lust and the novelty of it all. She was the most incredible woman I'd ever known, and she'd given me her body to do with as I pleased. She sealed her life to mine, and brought my children into this world. I would die for her a hundred times. I climaxed completely unexpectedly. My cum filled the crevices inside her and then spilled back over my cock, as if I'd been wearing a condom. All coherent thought left my mind, leaving behind only primitive feelings. Pure, unending love pumped through my veins. I thought my heart would burst inside my chest.

Looking down at her, I saw tears trailing from her eyes and over her temples.

"Ah love you…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Notes:** There are a lot of OC's here, and I apologize for the confusion. Honor (age 16) is Gambit and Belle's oldest child, the only one they have together. Gambit and Rogue have the twins, Ollie and Becca (age 4). They also had a stillborn son they named Henri. Belle adopted René "Renegade" (also 16), and had Hero (age 3) by Bishop. Belle and Bish were never "together". Her clock was ticking and he agreed to be a donor. Finally, children mentioned but not seen are Megan and Alexander Frost-Summers from 'The End' mini-series, the offspring of Scott and Emma. Sorry again for the ambiguity.

This stinking thing isn't meant to be a _lemon_, so this chapter's a little less sex and little more love. Again, no idea when I'll be able to post the next one, but thanks so much for all the encouragement. My sweetie and I recently got a house, so that's where a lot of my attention's been going. But I'll be honest, the reviews are a kick in the rear to keep moving. Thanks again! Enjoy!

**Making a Big Stink**

**Chapter Two**

Anna was still naked and in my arms when I woke up. Sleep left me very slowly, and as it pulled away, my hands drifted across her body. Her thighs were smooth and cool to the touch. Because she lay on her side, her hip bone protruded from the valley of her belly. She inhaled slowly as I cupped her breasts but when I twisted a nipple, she groaned in protest and smacked my hand like a troublesome fly. Sometimes she forgets about her superhuman strength (like now), and what should've been a light tap nearly broke my wrist. Now fully awake, I remembered she didn't like to have her sleep stolen. She'd hurt me much worse, intentionally and not, so I didn't take this blow personally. The worst hit I ever took was in the middle of passionate lovemaking. Her legs got tangled in the sheets and in her frustration, she tore her limbs free at the same time I kicked the blankets off. Her knee struck the vulnerable spot between my legs with enough power to break ten feet of cement. By comparison, this injury was minor. At least I wouldn't be walking bow-legged for a week…

I tucked the blankets around her chin and let her enjoy sleeping in – a luxury in parenthood. I was the first one out of bed that morning, which was odd. Belle was always the first one up – unless she'd had an unusually late evening. I dismissed her absence and started breakfast. Pulling out bread, eggs and butter, I tried to be as quiet as possible. "Enjoying the silence" was for the birds, but lately, it had become a rare commodity in my life. The house was never completely quiet. Even in the dead of night, there was always the sound of limbs moving under blankets and the collective snoring of little ones. Now that the soft noise level had been broken, they'd be down shortly. The twins would ask for stolen blueberries to curb their appetites until breakfast was ready. Anna would kiss my cheek but keep quiet until she'd had her cup of coffee. The teenagers would sleep in until the last possible minute. Then they'd rush through, half-dressed, and carry their breakfast out the door. But today was different. While the coffee was still brewing, I heard someone nearing the house. The front door opened and Belle entered, still wearing her clothes from the prior day: a little purple dress and black stilettos. She avoided making eye contact, which thrilled my soul. It's not often _she's_ the one rolling around in the dirt.

"A little old for de walk of shame, ain't ya?"

"Screw you, LeBeau."

Before I could attack that wide opening, the stairs creaked and little Hero leapt at her mother.

I miss church? The little girl signed.

"No, maim," Belle kissed her head. "I bet Mr. LeBeau has some berries. Why don't you go ask?"

Without looking, I grabbed a handful of blueberries and held them at my side. Surprisingly, I felt four hands scrape mine, and realized Ollie was awake now, too. It was early, so he was a little calmer than usual, but he'd be picking a fight and leading the riots before much longer. He smiled mischievously at me and said: "You know, Papa… Megan and baby Alexander get _syrup_ on dere French toast."

"Yeah? Well, dat's why Megan and baby Alexander have pig tails."

"_Haha!_ Dey do not!"

Belle got a glass of water. "I'm exhausted, LeBeau-"

"I bet."

"Would you take de kids t' church?"

"_Woman_. I ain't been t' church since me mammy used t' bend me over her knee. Ask Lena."

Lena was the nanny: a plump, middle-aged Russian woman Belle hired around Hero's birth.

"_Remy!_" Belle put both hands on her hips. "You are de _man_ of dis house! Dese kids look _up_ t' you! 'Sides, it's her day off."

"Ask Honor."

Said child shuffled into the room, rubbing her red-on-black eyes pitifully. "Sorry, Pops, I've been up all night, too. When Rogue gets up, would you give her this?" She handed me three sheets of paper and made her rounds, kissing everyone good morning. This was a good sign – she'd have a good day. Teenaged girls are moody as the sea, but mine is especially so. The doctors blame her mutations and put her on medications, but it doesn't always help. I've learned that what helps her most is stability; she acts out when she's worried or afraid.

I looked at the sheets she'd handed me and noticed names on the front and back. I knew some of these people. "What's dis?"

"She asked me to invite the X-Men. Turns out, there's a _lot_ of them."

I laughed and shook my head. If Anna thought she was inviting all of these people, she was nuts. True, I'd expanded the guest list a little with Mercy and my father and a few Guild members… But that was all politics. We'd agreed on something small, and that's what we were staying with.

"T'anks for puttin' dis t'gether, _catin_. I had no idea Xavier had so many recruits!" I set the list on the counter and put two pieces of French toast on two plates for Ollie and Hero. They had their forks ready, and Belle poured them each a glass of milk.

"I didn't just put it together," said Honor, "She asked me to invite them, so that's what I did. What d'you think _took_ so long?"

"_All_ of dem? Dere's no way-"

"Yes! _E-mail!_ It's amazing!"

"We don't even _know_ dese people!"

"Well, you're _welcome_!" she shouted, "Next time, plan your _own_ damn wedding!"

"_Language!"_ Belle hollered as Honor thundered back upstairs and slammed her door.

I wanted to go after her, of course, but she has her mother's temper. Best to give her space until she's ready to talk. Behind me, I noticed Becca standing nervously in the doorway. She'd heard the yelling and was afraid she'd be on the receiving end next. She can be timid as a kitten. In this house, it's a miracle she hasn't been run over by all the ferociousness. I smiled and saw her worries vanish. With her stuffed dragon tucked under one arm, she came and hugged my leg. I took her in my arms and felt her slight, fragile body. Her hair smelled like tear-less shampoo and sunshine. It was hard to believe this little angel would one day turn into the agitator like Honor. When Becca was ready to leave, she squirmed out of my grasp and joined Hero and her brother at the table.

"Papa, why don't you like goin' t' church?" she asked.

"I don't mind it," I lied. "You know who _really_ hates church?"

"Who?"

"Logan."

"Why?"

"No idea. You ask him next time you see him." I handed her a slice of French toast, too.

Belle smiled triumphantly. "Since y' goin', y' better ask Father Newman t' officiate Friday. Doubt you'll find anyone else dis late."

"He's de one behind the pulpit, right?" I asked, only half-joking.

_Church_.

What a bloody waste of time. In the beginning, it was only Belle and Honor who went. But as the family grew, the petites decided to tag along, too. Belle's adopted son, Renegade, joined too late. He'd never had religious doctrine shoved down his throat, and it was too late for him to take that pill now. Myself, I didn't regularly attend until Jean-Luc adopted me. By then, I was half-grown. But before that, I would sometimes peak inside through the opened doors or stained glass windows. I understand the power and fascination church holds for a child. What I could never understand is how an adult can fall under the same spell.

The petites looked like little dolls in their church clothes. Becca wore her white Mary-Janes and had Anna braid her hair because that's how Honor always wore hers to church. Ollie parted his hair to the side like a miniature car salesman. Hero carried her white Bible in her little brown hands. I looked like an ass and felt the same. I was so ready to shed this fake persona that I could've ripped my own face off. But when Anna heard I was going, she decided to go, too. She looked beautiful in her green and yellow Easter dress; it was the only dress she owned. Now there was a chance I'd enjoy myself… maybe she'd give me a blow-job in the confessional booth. That was something I'd always wanted to do but never had.

Church sermons never change. Damn you, damn you, damn you. Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me. The fourth or fifth time Anna missed her cue to respond, she completely gave up trying to appear Catholic. We let the petites carry on without us while we spoke among ourselves.

"You need church after de t'ings you did last night," I whispered in her ear.

"Hush up!" she whispered back, "Ah was drunk and _you_ took advantage of me!"

"_Mais_, good t'ing we ain't Baptist! I know dey got a bottle of cheap wine around here _somewhere_…"

"Remy, you're hell-bound!"

"If I gotta do de time, _chere_," I smiled suggestively at her, but she only laughed at me. As long as we've been together, I suppose she'd catch on to my hypnotic powers sooner or later. I really poured on the charm, but for naught. She wasn't hiking up her skirt _or_ getting on her knees…

After the sermon, the petites wanted to go into confession.

"What d'you gotta apologize for?" I asked. "You're too _young_ to need forgiveness. Here, I absolve you." I crossed the air above them.

"Remy LeBeau?" Father Newman approached us. He was a short, thin man with a little bit of grey hair and bright blue eyes set close together. A pair of round bi-focals set at the end of his thin, wrinkled nose. Harmless in appearance, but I flinched anyway. Too many memories of nuns with rulers. Father Newman folded his hands and bent closer when he spoke. "Bless my soul – I didn't think we'd ever meet in this life! Your ex-wife and daughter have spoken of you very often."

I shook his hand and joked: "Don't believe a word of it!"

"I know you are often in their prayers," he said tensely. He flinched a little, and then pulled back his hand, the knuckles a little more tender. He turned his eyes on my children. "Olivier, Rebecca – you've done a wonderful job of bringing your parents in. And Miss Hero – good morning, dear. I almost didn't see you there." He looked at my wife. "You must be _Rogue_. Father Newman."

"It's an old nick-name from school," she said lightly. "Ya can call me 'Anna' if it makes ya more comfortable."

"Such a blessing to finally meet the mother of such wonderful children... And where are Misses Belle and Honor today?"

"Uh – not feelin' well," I quickly lied. "I know you're a busy man, but could you make an appointment for Friday?"

"Gracious," he leaned back as if I'd blown him away. "Is it _serious_?"

"Oh no, no," I dismissed his concerns and I saw the realization of my dishonesty in his eyes. Off to a great start, LeBeau. "It's for a weddin'."

Anna gently gripped my arm: her cue for me to stop talking. With a fake smile and soft voice, she said: "Remy and I married many years ago in the Church. But it was overseas so it ain't legal. We ain't really got the time or money for a big weddin', but Ah know it'd mean so much to Honor to see us exchange vows. A justice of the peace just ain't the same…"

"Oh, I see," he smiled. "Yes, I think we could work something out."

_Leaving_ church is the best part about going. All three kids fell asleep on the way home. Anna and I briefly fantasized about having the house to ourselves. It wasn't completely impossible that Belle and Honor would still be sleeping when we got home. Maybe we could eat lunch outside, walk down to Henri's memorial, go skinny-dipping in the lake… But my luck's not that good. Anna and I were walking up the drive with three sleeping petites in our arms when the front door opened. Honor saw us – she'd been crying – and tried to walk past us. She ignored our questions. Anna followed her and grabbed her with her only free hand.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

Honor wasn't even dressed. She was wearing her sleeping shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt. She'd thrown on an old pair of boots, but she wasn't dressed for leaving the house. She wiped her nose with the cuff of her sleeve and said: "Gi and I broke up." Then she put her head on Anna's available shoulder and sobbed like a little girl. She looked very young in her pajamas with her heart on her sleeve, even though she was bigger than my wife. Using her free hand to stroke Honor's back, Anna's green eyes met mine. I could see her heart was breaking, too. All the commotion woke Becca, who crawled from Anna to Honor and used her little hands to wipe away her sister's tears. Honor laughed, shaking more tears loose, and hugged the little girl.

"Let us put de petites down," I said. "I'll take y' for a ride."

Say what you will about teenagers in love, but the pain is very real. When Honor's upset, she likes to be alone with someone she trusts. She likes the freedom to run. So I put Hero in her room, handed Ollie to his mother and kissed them both good-bye, and took Honor away from the house where people would question and examine her pain. We drove through the countryside. Sometimes she'd rest her head on my back and I could feel her tears, but mostly she kept to herself. Finally, she said: "Could we stop for a soda?"

Out of habit, I pulled into an outdoor burger-and-beer joint that attracts losers like myself. Not such a good idea with my sixteen-year-old daughter in her sleeping shorts. The first biker who saw her threw his motorcycle into neutral and walked it backwards as we walked up to the service counter. He was a crude fellow with tattoos and a bandana tied around his long, nasty hair.

She laughed at him. "Man, get lost! I'm _sixteen_!"

"So am I," he smiled.

"No, you're not! You're twenty-four. And watch out for that tree."

"Wha-?" he backed right into a stump, hitting it so hard he slid off his seat.

We reached the cashier and got our coke bottles in peace. Honor picked out a place for us to sit – a bench closer to the parking lot than the little opened-air pit-stop.

"You weren't gonna kick that guy's ass?" she asked me.

"_Non_ – you had it in de bag. I don't do for m' kids what dey can do for demselves."

She pulled her knees up to her chest and averted her eyes. "Sorry I'm keeping you from wedding stuff. I know you've got a lot to do…"

"Hell, I've got de bride and de preacher. Dat's all I really _need_."

She smiled and kept her eyes down, but I could see tears forming in her eyes. "When you married Momma, did you ever think it wouldn't work out?"

"_Catin_, if I'd thought dat, I woulda never married her. We didn't have any say in de way it played out, you know dat." I could tell I wasn't saying what she wanted to hear. "No, I didn't know. I t'ought your momma and I would grow old in a big house full a' youngin's. And I guess dat's what we got in de end, even if we ain't married anymore."

She leaned on me and I put an arm around her. She said, "I use to tell people you were a much better father than you were a husband. I think it was true for a long time… But you're a good husband, too. It's just _tough_. No one ever showed you how to be married, and that's not something you just _know_. It's not easy to _learn_, either."

I gripped my chest, mocking a heart attack. "_Mon_… _Dieu_… Too much."

She laughed at me and pushed me away. I pulled her close again and spoke quietly. "I know you feel like I'm replacin' your momma. You felt day way 'bout de twins, too, 'member? T'ings ain't dat black and white, _catin_… For most a' my life, I didn't t'ink I'd ever love anyone 'cept Belle. She was de first person who ever cared about me. Before Jean-Luc and Tante Mattie. After I left N'awlins, I compared every woman I met t' your momma, and dey didn't measure up. Till Anna."

"Why's she so much better?"

"She ain't," I lied again, careful not to crush her feelings. "Dey just don't compare."

She took a drink and I saw more tears fall. I wanted to take her heart in my hands and protect it. After a moment, I asked: "You wanna talk 'bout Giana?"

She shrugged and sighed. "I just couldn't do it anymore… I couldn't… _force_ myself to feel something I _don't_."

"I don't know what went on behind closed doors, but you didn't seem unhappy wit' her. I t'ink maybe you just felt pressured t' be someone you weren't for somet'ing you didn't really want anyways."

She smiled hopefully. "Yeah, maybe… You know that comparison thing you were talking about? Yeah… she's no Tess."

.::.

By the time we got home, the petites were up from their naps and playing in the yard with Renegade. Belle's adopted boy is only a few months younger than Honor and in prime shape. But his youthful energy couldn't compare with Ollie, Becca and Hero. He was slow and out of breath, and they had to egg him on for a response. When they saw me coming, they ran my way, their little legs working ferociously to best the others. Renegade fell face-first into the lawn, exhausted. He stayed there while I exchanged Honor for Ollie-Otts and then Becks, taking them around the extensive driveway so slowly I almost tipped over. Anna would've killed me for it. I offered to take Hero, too, and even though she'd stood watching and waiting patiently, she shook her white-blond curls at me and stepped back. She's distrusted me from birth: a trait from her M.I.A. father. Instead, she and Honor helped carry Renegade back inside. I lifted the twins on my shoulders like two sacks of potatoes and carried them in the house, which smelled like smoke.

"What's burnin'?" I asked no one in particular. Too late, I saw Anna in the kitchen.

"Ah ain't _burnin'_ nothin'! Ah am makin' you a _fantastic_ meal with mah own two hands!" She reached into the oven and pulled out a black and smoking platter with her naked hands. When she bent over, I could see all those lovely, feminine curves outlined by her slacks. She hurried to drop the ruined dinner in the sink, but I didn't need her to linger to encourage me.

I dropped the twins and put my arms around her. "Must be m' _passion_ dat's burnin'!"

She wrapped her legs around my waist and laughed brightly. She makes me feel like a king – even when she feeds me blackened biscuits.

I know how lucky I am to have all my children under one roof and a good woman in my bed every night. It's more than I deserve, certainly. But I wanted more. Hey, it's who I am. Most of the good things I have in my life I got by charging blindly off a cliff. That night while we ate dinner, it wasn't difficult to see where our lives were headed. Belle was getting serious with her beau; they'd probably marry. She'd take René and Hero and Lena with her... (But I'd be dead before she took Honor.) Ollie and Becca would be starting school this year. It wouldn't take an hour for them to graduate high-school, and then they'd be gone, too. Call it a mid-life crisis, but I missed having an _infant_ around. They're completely helpless, babies. All they know is hunger and wet, and their biggest calamity is _gas_. After Henri's passing, Anna was so destroyed… But I saw her face when Becca held baby Alexander. It was the same longing look she used to give Honor when she first came to us. There was more _fear_ in her eyes than before, but it was the first glimmer of hope I'd seen since the stillbirth. So after dinner was devoured and cleared away and the twins were washed the put to bed, I decided to approach the subject again. We moved upstairs to the bedroom – one of the few places in the whole house that was all ours.

"Y' find some shoes t' wear?" I asked before popping a toothbrush in my mouth. Knowing women, I figured I was in for _at least_ a two-minute tale about finding the _perfect_ pair of white shoes.

Instead, she shrugged. "We're goin' on a _boat_ and it's our second trip down the aisle… So Ah'm thinkin' about just wearing a pair of flip-flops."

I smiled at her with fluoride frothing over my lips. "Dat's wa I luv 'oo."

She smiled sweetly and applied lotion to her elbows, arms and knuckles. "Could ya get your suit and find a rehearsal place this week? Ah've got everything else, mostly… Ya mind usin' the same vows?"

I rinsed my mouth. "T'ought we weren't _havin'_ a rehearsal dinner."

"We _weren't_ until ya invited half the Guild, sweetheart." She sat on the bed and laid out several magazines.

"I got it, I got it…" I sat beside her, both our backs against the headboard. "We can't do _anyt'ing_ de same way we did it de first time. Last time, we get married in de snow, now we got de sea… Last time, we wore jeans, now we got our Sunday best… Last time, de mayor bought us a bottle of champagne, now we gotta pay for everyone else's…"

"Ya got the idea!" She pulled out a hand-written check list and marked a few items while talking. "Hope ya like chocolate cake, 'cause that's all they could do on such short notice… Lucky your kid's a _psychic_, she found a cancellation and called the bakery to fill it. Ah was about to give myself a gawd-dang stroke! Music… The boat has a pianist, so we're goin' with that. Oh, and Belle _suggested_ Ah use the traditional Guild ceremony, but she can plan her _own_ damn weddin'."

I was beginning to wonder whose wedding this was. "I'm not gonna lie, _chere_, I'm feelin' a little lost in all dis. It'd be nice t' do _one_ t'ing de same, if de groom may make a request."

"Ask away, sugah."

"_Mais_, last time we were carryin' a _bébé_."

For a long time, her green eyes stared unflinchingly at the check-list. Finally, she exhaled and said dismissively, "It'll look a little strange holdin' baby Alexander, but Ah'm sure it could be arranged."

"_Chere_-"

"Remy! We've _had_ this conversation before-"

"We said we'd wait a _year_," I remembered aloud.

"_At least_ a year!" she corrected.

"And it's been almost _deux_!"

"Just because Ah can _talk_ about it doesn't mean Ah'm ready to _do_ it! Ah know ya want more kids, sweetheart, and Ah know ya deserve'm-"

"Anna-"

"But maybe we're not _meant_ to have anymore. Did you ever think of that?"

"_Non_... Why would you t'ink dat? If y' gonna try anyt'ing, you risk failin'. I don't t'ink dat's reason t' quit. Hell, I've failed _everyt'ing_ at least once! Walkin', dancin', marriage…" I counted the failures on my fingers.

"Convincin' me to have more babies…" She added.

The more time elapsed, the more her response moved from "not now" to "not at all." But I knew my Anna. "No" didn't always mean no. The first month her period didn't show up, she'd be picking out names that went well with 'LeBeau' and re-painting the nursery. She just needed a little more _persuasion_. I knew a guy who could replicate sugar pills that looked like birth control pills, but duplicating the packaging would be a little more difficult. 'Difficult', but not impossible. The hardest part would be keeping her in the dark about the switch. But as long as I kept pestering her about it, she wouldn't suspect.

"Ah see that gleam in your eye, Remy LeBeau. Stop it."

"_Quoi_?"

"Ya ain't pokin' holes in the condoms or slippin' me fertility pills."

"Y' wound me, _chere_!"

"Ah'm _warnin'_ you."

Since she was a mind-reader now (or she knew me better than anyone else, which was a little scary), I cleared my mind of any thoughts. For once, I was glad we didn't work together anymore. Tomorrow I could go to work and let all my naughty thoughts run free, and she'd never know about it.

While she reviewed her check-list, I studied the lines of her legs. She was wearing a pair of grey shorts that barely covered her bottom, and when she sat down, the material pulled back to reveal that delicious curve where thigh and ass meet. When we were both still on active combat roster, she'd wear those shorts to work-outs. Back then, she had to wear leggings underneath to protect her skin from an accidental contact, and for extra measure, she'd throw on a pair of leg-warmers. I'd watch her doing push-ups, willing those grey shorts up higher and higher… It didn't bother me like it did her, that whole flesh-on-flesh thing – or rather, the lack thereof. The slight interference of fabric just felt like an extra layer of skin. I _did_ resent not being able to kiss her, though; it's the strangest thing to make love without kissing the person's mouth. But no one's sex-life is perfect, and taking what we could was enough… _more_ than enough. Body condoms, gloves, the medieval sheets, and patches of satin were all used to keep our skin from making direct contact. We even had a voyeur method, but it wasn't my favorite and was usually the last resort. Years ago, our combat team got stranded in the Bermuda Triangle. We still had our powers and were able to live _more_ than comfortably, so certain members joked about never leaving. I had one emergency condom which got used in the first two days, so the remaining twenty-three days were agony. There's only so much masturbation can substitute for. Whatever mild pleasure I got from _watching_ turned bitter. It was the first time I really questioned our solidity; the problem seemed so omnipotent. Anna and I were the only ones strolling around paradise with a permanent frown, and we "broke up" every six hours. The fights were always resolved with renewed determination to conquer the problem, but of course, nothing changed. When we finally got back to the mansion, I tied her to my bed for three days. We made love twenty-seven times, which _almost_ made up for the month we lost. Got her back for making _me_ walk around bow-legged!

.::.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own.

**Author's Notes: **This one's a little slow, but trust me, it's definitely going to pick up after this! I suspect you guys aren't reading this for the plot anyway!

**Making A Big Stink**

**Chapter Three**

It was the shorts.

I can't be held responsible for my actions.

She should've known better. If she wanted to get a good night's sleep, she shouldn't have worn the shorts to bed. We kissed good-night at eleven and I had every intention of going to sleep. Instead, I dreamed of forbidden-Rogue doing squat-thrusts in the mansion's gym. I watched her for a little while before I reached out and grabbed the inside of her upper thigh. She stood upright and looked deep into my eyes. Then she lifted her leg and rested her foot on a dumbbell, so her legs were spread. My hand slid up the smooth covering of her black leggings, under the thin, grey material of her shorts, and finally reached the warm crevice between her legs. Even though two layers of clothes, I could feel the moisture pooling up. My fingers knew instinctively how long her slit was and ran the course before diving inside. She moaned and grabbed my bare arms with her gloved hands. Her breath was hot against my neck. She was panting and tried to rip my clothes off before she came and didn't care anymore. _(But I hadn't brought a condom to the gym…)_

I wasn't completely nude – she didn't care – when she pinned me to the mattress, pulled her shorts to the side and guided my cock inside. It's the most amazing feeling in the world to plunge deep inside her hot and moist depths. If I'd been standing, my knees would've buckled. She wrapped her legs around mine and started riding my length, her juices coating me and filling the room with a deep, musky scent. I can't explain it, but I was acutely aware of every muscle in her body. Her skin was pulled tightly over warm and hard muscles that rippled with delight. I could feel the movement under her skin, sure, but this feeling was something else. I could see the desire burning in her blood and hear the pleasure ringing off her nerves, adding to my own. She could feel it, too. She was siphoning bits of me with her power, stealing my thoughts and my lust and my secrets... _(We'd forgotten about her powers being out of control, but damned if I was stopping now!)_ She could have them. She could have it all.

She gripped a fistful of my hair and whispered hotly into my ear, "Let's make a baby."

Not her own thoughts, but I didn't care. I held her tightly and thrust into her, determined to make the most of her vulnerability. In the back of my mind, I knew it was no good. _(What was that?)_ But maybe the idea would linger in her head a few days, and maybe that was all the time we needed. _(It was getting closer.)_ Our bodies rode together towards one goal, greater than intercourse or climax. The end was in sight when-

"_Momma!"_ Ollie burst through the door an instant after Anna pushed me away. We were still panting. "Momma!" He ran to the bed and she swept him up in her arms. She was still fully dressed and I was under the blankets, kicking around frantically for my shorts. Those damned things always seem to disappear when I need them!

She walked around the room, holding him like a fussy baby. "Did ya have a nightmare, sugah?"

"Uh-huh. Can Ah s'eep wit' you t'night?"

"'Course, baby."

"_Non_!" I vetoed. "Just calm 'm down, and put 'm t' bed!"

"_Remy!_ Ollie and Ah are sleepin' _here_ tonight. You don't like it, ya can leave! What's _wrong_ with you?"

"What's wrong wit' _moi?"_

She set Ollie down between us (I still hadn't found my shorts!), effectively forcing me from my own bed. I grabbed a sheet and scuttled away, shooting them both dirty looks while that little stinker cuddled up to my wife. My cock was still fully erect as a flagpole, but I made it to the bathroom without them noticing.

That morning at work, I wasn't _joie de vivre_. I was Stormy's only hand married with kids, but somehow people always expected me early and smiling. Well, they weren't getting it. Not today. It was up to Hank to be our moral cup of coffee, and it looked like we all needed it black today. Laura's a regular grump, and considering she's a clone of Wolverine, I couldn't blame her. She probably spends half her day going through tobacco withdraws without even knowing why… But what's Sarah's problem? No parents, spouse or kids; she comes and goes as she pleases. I know she ain't pretty, but she's grown now. She ought to be past all that. I didn't care enough to ask. I just joined their collective black cloud attitude. Stormy breezed in, trying not to smile. I could see she had a secret and it warmed my heart. Sometimes I still see the _petite_ she used to be. She handed us all files and spoke to the room at large.

"We have a new assignment… The United Nations is attempting to reign in some of the more prolific mutant terrorists. Obviously, Mystique remains their most wanted, but I doubt we shall see _her_ in custody any time soon. Victor Creed has been arrested in Canada, and we have been tasked with ensuring he faces a _fair_ trial. Marrow and X-23, you shall be responsible for his physical safety. You will secure the area he occupies and precedes. Gambit, you shall alert us to threats as they present themselves. I trust you to eliminate those that you can. Anyone who threatens Sabretooth also poses a threat to your team mates. And Beast, you will be tasked with ensuring that Mr. Sinister doesn't destroy him from a distance."

"I shall certainly try," Hank said dryly. "When do we leave?"

"This afternoon at two. I apologize, Hank, I know that does not leave you with much time to prepare. But before you begin packing, I would like to inform you all of a personal matter. I am engaged to be wed."

Her bright blue eyes were looking right at me when she said it. I wished Jubilee had been around to squeal and distract her. I know Stormy expected me to be happy for her, but I wasn't. When I'd spoken to her last week, she'd been envious of my wedding. Envious of my _kids_, even. That's not the behavior of a woman in love, and I couldn't help but think her engagement was rushed.

"To whom?" Beast finally asked.

"T'Challa," she said proudly, "The King of the Providence of Wakanda."

"Black Panther?" Laura asked.

"The same."

When no one else spoke, she quickly covered her disappointment and said, "You are dismissed. We shall re-convene at 1:30 to prepare for departure."

The ladies made their exit, business as usual. Beast and I exchanged looks, and he decided to back out. He vocally made his excuses, to which Stormy and I paid no attention. Then he left and we were alone. I couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make me sound like a jilted lover.

"I apologize, Gambit… Was I unclear about some detail?" she asked.

"Stormy, why didn't y' tell me y' seein' somebody?" There they were – stupidest words I could've thrown together.

"I know this must seem sudden to you," she said tenderly. "But I have known T'Challa for many years now, since we were children. Our paths have often overlapped, although the time was never right for the two of us to pursue what we wanted… I would have told you about our engagement earlier, but given his responsibilities, I could not. Are you unhappy about my decision?"

"_Non_… Not unhappy… _Stunned_."

"Understandable. You needn't produce an immediate response. Go and prepare for our mission, we shall have plenty of time to discuss whatever troubles you."

I couldn't move. "Just gimme a minute, _chere_. Tryin' t' find de right words..."

"I have never known you to be _burdened_ by them," she said with a teasing smile.

"'Ro, I can't say we ain't had our share of secrets, but de important stuff – we ain't kept dat stuff t' ourselves. What changed?"

"Remy," she sighed. "You are not the _only_ one who longs to grow old surrounded by children and grandchildren… I cannot say how many years I have left, but every day I feel myself age. I do not wish to leave this world with nothing but _memories_ of the person I was. I wish to continue my family bloodline into eternity. Watching you with your children has filled me with a joy that I long to make my own. Besides, T'Challa is a _good_ man with strong morals that I respect. He and I could do wondrous things together for the people of Wakanda. I truly believe he and I were always meant for each other. I apologize if you feel our friendship has been diminished by my silence on the matter. I assure you, I meant no offense."

No mention of _love_ in that defensive little speech. It's _d'accord_, I didn't expect it. After Forge, I don't think she _let_ herself fall in love again. It's not a requirement for her to marry, anyway, but it would've made me happy.

"_Mais_," I said lightly, "Long as I hear b'fore Wolverine, I reckon dere's no harm."

Anna wasn't too thrilled when I told her… Not about Stormy's engagement – about me leaving for Canada. Honestly, I had no idea how long I'd be gone, but I couldn't tell _her_ that. I had to swear on everything scared that I'd be home before my father and his French entourage showed up. Then I had to talk her down from a nervous breakdown at the prospect of planning this whole wedding by herself. She said she wished we'd eloped (again), and to hell with what Honor or my father wanted. Even though I couldn't see her, I could tell she was crying and didn't really mean it. She wanted a wedding. She was just overwhelmed. So I lied until my soul turned black to soothe her mind. Then I had to quick find a way to make good on all my promises.

"You're driving me nuts!" Honor blasted me over the phone. "You want me to plan this stupid dinner! Don't even know how many people it's for, do you?"

"See, dat's de advantage t' you bein' psychic," I tried to joke.

"Screw _you_, old man! Screw _Rogue_ and screw this _wedding_!"

I wanted to reach through the phone and smack her, but that wouldn't help my cause and wasn't possible, anyway. So I took a deep breath and said, "I'll give you m' credit card. It's gotta ten thousand dollar limit. You get de dinner and anyt'ing else y' want."

She was quiet for a long time. "No," she finally said. "I want a Harley."

"I don't t'ink so! You are _sixteen goddamn_-"

"I am a _functioning adult_ who contributes to this family!" She roared, "And I want the privileges that go with the responsibilities! You could probably find someone else to do my job, but they won't lie to your wife about it, too! You want my help? Those are my terms."

.::.

The best part about working intell is that you work alone. Gotta admit, I was pretty damn tempted to let someone "slip" through the reigns and do Creed in, but that would've made Stormy look bad. (It would've put Sarah in danger, too, and I've buried enough former students.) The press was out in full-force, too, with shouting reporters, glittering cameras and microphones that heard every inaudible thing. But we managed to get Creed to the courthouse without anyone hearing our footfalls.

Lucky we didn't have to find a hundred different secret routes. Everyone was in a hurry to pass down judgment and call it justice. Creed exhilarated in killing scores – maybe hundreds of people. No doubt about it, he was guilty. But Frost had done the same, and the same reporters glamorized her million-dollar wedding to a superhero. Even if he _hadn't_ enjoyed his crimes, he didn't have a choice in many of them. Sinister had him by the balls, same as me. Difference is I wanted out and found a way. Don't misunderstand, the man's a _bete_ and deserves to fry. But the only reason he got targeted is because he's the very worst of the worst. Ugly, crude, an unapologetic brute. If he'd been beautiful or charming, he might've gotten off. Justice is a lie.

Sinister had his reasons for not killing Sabretooth, and it had nothing to do with Hank's work. Maybe he enjoyed the circus of it all. Sounds petty, but the man ain't always playing with a full set. Whenever his reasons ran out, he'd kill Creed and clone him. All the press excitement, all the philosophical debates, all the money spent was a waste.

Meanwhile, I could've been doing something truly worth my time and effort – like planning a pinch or listening to my _petites_ explain the mysteries of the universe. They're four, you know, they know everything. _Ma_ _tite fille_, Becca, thinks everything has a soul – animals, trees, jack-o-lanterns… even cartoon characters. She knows that babies sometimes die and lions sometimes kill fawns for food, but she still believes in fairness and balance. I think that's what makes children so loveable – their innocence. _Mon_ _fils_ thinks we aren't real at all. Forget souls, we don't even have flesh. He thinks we're all God's memories. It's amazing how these little people, who are made up of parts of me and Anna, can be so distinctly different from anything that we are.

Since I couldn't be with them, I decided to at least contribute something. I finally got off my _derriere_ and called my tailor for a suit. He's made dozens for me, he knows my measurements, but I wanted to get one for Ollie, too. That proved a little more difficult. Apparently, 'size 4 in tots' isn't enough information. Imagine that! I called home and asked Belle to take care of it. The next day, the man said he had everything and I felt exhausted by that one task. That's how I _know_ a man didn't invent weddings.

I must've been homesick because I dreamed about Anna that night. Normally, I have the stupidest dreams, just a mix of the dullest parts of my day. My kids get all the fun stuff – Becca dreams about flying, Ollie about swimming, and Honor about ghosts with wings… Sometimes zombies, too. Me? I dream about picking locks or packing lunches. But that night I actually saw Anna trying on her wedding dress in our bedroom. She was a vision. Honor piled Anna's chocolate tresses atop her head, leaving the white streaks around her face. They both smiled at their image in the mirror. Becca wrapped her arms around Anna's hips and told her she was _"tres belle"._

The Wednesday before my wedding, Creed was sentenced to life imprisonment at one of the harshest prisons in the world, located in Siberia. His captivity meant my freedom. I rushed off to our little hotel to pack up my razor and get back to New York before my father's plane landed. Maybe I could pull this off, after all!

Stormy knocked twice and let herself in.

"Gambit…" She wore a heavy facade. "I have some news which I know will upset you. Please, have a seat."

"I can't stay," I said.

"No, my friend, I do not intend to delay you for long. May I have a seat?"

Thinking she wanted to talk about her mistake with T'Challa, I obliged and invited her to join me. She took both my hands and said, "The media has discovered your intentions to marry. My apologies, I do not know how we could protect Sabretooth but fail in guarding our _own_ secrets... A ceremony between two X-Men, however retired, still holds some appeal. I fear your wish for a quiet wedding has been dashed."

I could see it all – helicopters, cameras, creepy strangers with microphones hanging in trees…

"My suggestion," she continued, "is to follow Cyclops and the White Queen's example and arrange for a single outlet, which will only publish the photographs you approve. I know the very notion makes you ill, but you must protect the identity of your children. There are still fanatics who would do them harm to punish you." She took a deep breath. "If you would like, I will contact Ms. Tilby for the arrangements. Or, if you are concerned with the largest monetary reward, I will contact Mr. Pepperdam. I know Cyclops was pleased that the man did not publish information on any of the children."

"Anna's gonna kill me," I sighed.

.

_To Be Continued…._

.

**A/N: **My apologies this took so long to post… Had a lot of problems with . Honestly, would've been posted Friday LAST week if not for technical difficulties! Almost got the next one finished, too, so shouldn't take so long next time. Thanks for your patience and please R & R!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I do not own.

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long to post, I was having a bit of trouble getting this chapter out just the way I wanted it, but I think it came out just like I envisioned. So I hope it was worth the wait. For those of you not following my other stories, Jean-Luc's wife and her family are my OCs. Enjoy!

**Making A Big Stink**

**Chapter Four**

I wanted to surprise everyone (and give myself a little extra time to figure out this media-mess), so I didn't call ahead to tell the clan I was headed home. When we stepped off the Blackbird, no one welcomed us. For the first time in five years, I came home from a mission without a running-start hug from my kids. I know most kids start to hate their parents and get too proud to hug them, but not mine. It was something I looked forward to, and this time I was running to them. It was raining when I pulled up the drive. Honor, Becca and Ollie were dancing wildly in the rain, jumping in puddles and running around each other like a feral tribe. They hugged me and then zoomed back into formation. (Guess I'm not as cool as I think I am…) It was a dance of thanksgiving. Stormy taught it to them, which means they're already better dancers than me. Funny how she thinks she needs a _blood_ child to honor her memory. Blood doesn't promise love or respect - it's the time spent and traits taught that make a child love you. In that respect, she's as much a mother to my children as Anna and Belle. Was _that_ the reason I didn't want her to get married? As much as I loved her, she wasn't mine. And as much as my kids needed her, she was entitled to a child of her own.

I joined my kids in the rain, trying to replicate their dance. Unfortunately, there were more than two steps, so I failed. And although Anna was probably having a good laugh at my expense, I think it was worth it. We heard thunder rumble in the distance and headed back inside. Anna had been watching us from the window and welcomed us on the porch with towels and a smile. Following my dick, I swept her up into my arms. I was home. Her front side got soaked, but she smiled anyway and held me for a long time. The _petites_ stripped down to their drawers, wrapped their towels around themselves and walked inside very slow, careful not to slip.

"Ah've missed you," said Anna, still holding me. "Ah _hate_ it when ya take a mission."

I smiled, "My other wife's gonna get suspicious if I never spend any time wit' her."

"Even _you_ couldn't be that stupid, Remy." She smiled back and finally pulled away.

Inside, Belle's adopted son was cooking a Caribbean dish with curry so strong it made my nose sting. I could hear Honor in the bathroom with the twins, getting them dried and changed. My home is more like a city than a castle, and I was glad to return to its sounds and smells. The atmosphere was bright and clear, the litter was minimal, and there was a steady stream of traffic going in and out the kitchen. The living room was under heavy construction. Every inch was buried under ribbons, table clothes, fake flowers, papers, mints, marbles… And I noticed a single Batman action figure causality, which Ollie might never see again. I tried to hide my disgust. _Wedding stuff_. It reminded me, of course, that I still had to tell her about the guests neither one of us wanted – only the world's population with access to a magazine. I'd try to phrase it the way Stormy had… "Protection of the children" or something reasonable like that.

"Ya alright, sug?" asked Anna. "Ya look like ya just swallowed a frog."

"_Bon, chere, bon_… Where's Belle?"

"She took Hero ta the airport ta pick up your sister-in-law." Then, she added quietly, "At this point, Ah'm kinda hopin' they kill each other."

"She ain't stayin' _here_, is she?"

"Well," she smiled like Ollie when he's gotten away with something naughty, "Ah _was_ gonna tell her ta eat dirt, but Belle said _she'd_ invite Mercy ta stay here. Naturally, she wouldn't _dream_ of burdenin' us."

"Naturally." We were in trouble if the Assassin Queen was our liaison.

"Dinner's ready!" Renegade bellowed from the dining room.

The table was set, the _petites_ were seated, and Renegade was divvying up bowls of tripe soup when we found our seats. Honor got two bowls of bland beef stew for the twins, but Ollie objected: "_Non_, Sissy! I wanna big bowl!"

She looked at Anna and me, uneasy. "I dunno, Olls. It's kinda hot."

"_Ca c'est bon!_ I _like_ it hot!"

My eldest said grace and we all tucked in, watching Ollie from the side. He took a bite, closed his eyes, and hissed dramatically, but soldiered on.

"Where'd you get this recipe?" Honor asked our chef. It was a polite way of asking 'who eats this stuff?'

Her adopted brother shrugged, "Google. You like?"

"It's Jamaican," she pressed, "Are you trying to get in touch with your roots?"

"I'm from _Harlem_! But if you t'ink it makes me look good, I'll go wit' Jamaica. I wanna make Marie somet'ing she ain't never had b'fore. I t'ink dis makes me look poor but smart – exotic, you know?"

She smirked at him, "Think you guys will do much _cooking_?"

His black face burned crimson and he gave a little smile that had more to do with seeing Marie than Honor's joke. I noticed Anna teaching Ollie how to dip bread into his stew to buffer against the curry. Beside me, Becca was waiting very patiently for my attention. She didn't say anything or grab at me. She merely stopped eating and watched me with her big, green eyes until I looked her way.

"_Oui, mademoiselle?"_

"I talked wit' Logan and he's gotta bone t' pick wit' you!"

"Oh, _non_! You got me in trouble wit' Logan? Why you do dat?"

"I told him you left and didn't come home, and it made me sad."

"We can't have a sad _fille_! What's de matter, chere? You t'ink I not come back? Or you like your momma, just want me t' stay?"

"I just want you t' stay."

"_Mais_, I'm stayin' now, so you call off Logan?"

She hummed and tapped her chin thoughtfully, a triumphant smile on her lips and in her eyes.

I laced my fingers and laid my head down so that she and I were eye-level. "How 'bout a present? I'll get you whatever you want… A tool box? Grandpére clock? Pony?"

"_Peh!_ No _ponies!"_

"What den?"

She narrowed her eyes and looked around the room, then came back to me. "I dunno. I'm gonna have t' t'ink about dat. Anyt'ing is a lot!"

Anna smiled at me and said quietly, "Ya seem ta know a thing or two about keepin' a gal happy."

I winked at her and hoped she was right.

We ended up feeding Ollie half a loaf of bread since that soup of a little tougher than he was, and shortly after we finished, Belle and Hero returned. Renegade and Honor left the dishes in the sink and slipped away to do their homework and practice piano. Somehow, Anna and our kids vanished, too; leaving me alone to face my ex's tirade.

"Y' need t' marry off dat _femme_!" Belle shouted at me. The idea was laughable and I told her so. Mercy was happy single – more time to mingle in my family's affairs – and besides, the notion seemed disrespectful to my late brother. He'd passed away ten years ago, but if I were him, I wouldn't want anyone setting _my_ wife up on dates.

"Worst idea Luc ever had!" she ranted, "Lettin' Henri marry dat woman!"

"_Remy!_" Anna called from upstairs, "A little help?"

It was bath time for the twins. I gladly left my angry ex-wife and leapt up the staircase, taking two stairs at a time. But the bathroom was dark and empty. Becca and Ollie were playing in their room. Then, I heard the dark siren's call beckoning me to my room.

"_Remy!"_

Anna was standing there with her arms crossed, her lips set and her eyes burning. Honor stood nearby with her eyes wide and hands behind her back. I knew where this was going and there was no point in lying, but there was no sense in letting Anna get herself worked up, either. It would be a night of _'Ah guess this weddin' ain't important ta you!' _and _'You'd get it done if *Stormy* asked ya to!'_ And for what? I'd delegated the task to Honor and she'd taken care of it…. Hadn't she? _Merde_.

"_Oui, chere?"_

"Honor, honey, why don't ya help your brother with the dishes?" Anna said, never lifting her death glare from my face.

'On slinked away and I closed the door behind her.

"_Chere_, before y'-"

"How could ya do this?" She said, making an effort not to yell and upset the kids. "Of _all_ the things-!"

"Y' got every reason t' be mad, but I said I'd take care of t'ings and I did."

"This is your idea of takin' care of things? Ya ran off and made the decision behind my back! Ya could've at least _asked_ before the dye was cast!"

"_Mais_, y' told me t' do it, so I did! Y' didn't say anyt'ing about clearin' t'ings wit' you first! _Jesu_, Anna! Y' tell me t' book a place, get a suit – was I s'post t' clear _dat_ wit' you, too? I'm goin' dark in another country, and you t'ink I've got time t' book a dinner for a dozen people?"

Her brows pulled together and she lowered her chin. "What're ya _talkin'_ about?"

_Merde, merde, merde!_ "What're _you_ talkin' about?"

"Ah found out ya sold our weddin' day to the highest bidder. Honor Saw it, and she was tryin' to cover for ya, like always… Ya _did_ get the rehearsal dinner taken care of, _didn't_ you, LeBeau?"

"Of course I did! At least… I t'ink I did… I… left it wit' Honor."

In the time it took her rage to focus on the bed (which she launched at me), I was out the window and down to the lawn. I don't like to think of it as "running scared"… I prefer to think I was giving her time to cool off. I kept moving until I knew she wasn't coming after me, and turned to look behind me. She'd be standing on the balcony, waiting for me to look so she could strangle me from afar like Darth Vader. I just _knew_ it. Instead, I saw her silhouette leaving the room. _D'accord_, so she'd had her fit; that was over. The next few days would be hell while she subjected me to her favorite form of rejection – the silent treatment. But the sooner she got started, the sooner she'd be over it. And I had to get her speaking to me again by Friday.

I went to the front door (thinking I could use the _petites_ as a buffer against her wrath), but even from there, I could hear her pitching her fit to Belle. Guess she wasn't over that after all… Worse, now I had two – probably three – _femmes_ pissed at me. I made sure not to make the slightest sound as I backed away. I could still hear them cursing my name from the front lawn and the drive-way and inside the car, which I eventually hot-wired so the radio would help drown them out. If she wanted to string up a voo-doo doll with my hair and set it on fire_, c'est la vie_. But cursing my name where my babies could hear? Damn unforgiveable. Hell, the whole neighborhood could hear! (If we had neighbors.) And venting to Belle was adding fuel to the fire. Once Anna had let go of this grudge, Belle would remind her of it and prod the wound, like a _peu diable_ on her shoulder.

They drank hot tea at the table, the spurred wife and the hateful woman pretending to be her friend. Belle didn't _really_ want Anna to be happy. She wanted her to hate me; wanted my children to hate me. I knew I'd hurt her, I'd hurt them both, but I'd done a lot of good for them, too! I built this house, pretended to tolerate my ex, and despite what Anna thought, I'd stopped taking the _truly_ exciting missions because those were the most dangerous ones. Hell, I bought a goddamn mini-van! I'd given up everything I most enjoyed doing and held my tongue more often than I inhaled, but all I ever got were more demands. I brought us all together thinking we would support each other, but things hadn't worked out that way. Instead of hard times, we seemed to have good times interrupting our usual hard lives. The longer we all lived in Poughkeepsie, the more we were pushed towards our breaking point.

I saw the light in the kitchen light stay on for thirty minutes… forty-five minutes… An hour and a half… Finally, Belle put an arm around Anna and they left the kitchen together.

I knew Anna was better now. She hadn't forgiven me, but she'd buried it enough to listen to what I had to say. But I wasn't ready to forgive her. Not by a long shot. I should've left hours ago. All night long, I'd been sitting in my own front yard, too afraid to face my own wife. What had happened to me? Why hadn't I just hot-wired the car, driven into the city and taken up with a lonely lady? I wouldn't go home with her. (Most of the women I meet are married, and although that didn't bother me in my single days, the idea bothers me very much now.) I'd buy her a few drinks, listen to her problems, and compliment all her features. She'd boost my confidence with broad smiles, soft caresses and flashes of cleavage and thigh, inviting me to satisfy myself with her… It was a trick I learned years ago. When I couldn't touch my wife (and even sometimes when I could), she hated me. So I found women I _could_ touch and they loved me for it. Some people would say that was wrong, but it took enough pressure off for Anna and me to "make up" – I agreed to be her verbal punching-bag. _Mais_, it worked.

Why hadn't I done that this time?

All I had to do was disappear and she'd _think_ that's what I was up to. She'd be up all night, twisting her hair and calling my cell phone (which I'd left inside). Whenever I finally decided to come back, she'd be torn between slapping me and hugging me. She wasn't the _only_ one who could deal out punishment.

I sat in the car, debating my next move when I heard a little knock on my window. Becca stood outside in her purple pajamas and tennis shoes. I opened the door and pulled her close, as if something would pop out of the dark and snatch her away.

"_Chere_, whachya doin' out here? You can't be sneakin' out like dat!"

"I ain't sneakin' out. I brought you somet'ing." She showed me a worn box of cigarettes.

It was my "secret stash" I had hidden in the chimney; I didn't think anyone else knew about it. I wasn't supposed to smoke anymore. I looked down at her proud, freckled smile and couldn't speak. To Hell with everyone who hated me! At least _one_ person in this house loved me!

"T'anks, _petite_. Back inside b'fore you catch cold." I kissed the top of her head and she scurried off.

I sat outside and smoked all seven of those things. They made my throat itch and my hands stink, but the storm brewing in my chest calmed. I observed my household from the outside, like most people. Now that the dinner rush was over, the heaviest part of the traffic had moved to the hallways. I could practically feel the little earthquakes as the _petites_ ran from toothbrushes and bed-time prayers. Renegade's bedroom light was on, and I could vaguely make out his shadow near Honor's. They must've been studying – she almost never went into his room. She could hardly sit for ten minutes at a time before popping up and disappearing down the hall. Anna kept returning to the kitchen and cleaning, which tickled me. She usually likes to beat up on something when she's angry. Once the little ones were down, the rest of the lights soon followed. First Renegade's light when out and then Honor's. Belle and Anna were in our room, talking in hushed tones this time. Belle was very firm about whatever she was saying, but Anna kept shaking her head. Finally, Belle turned in, too. Anna peaked out the window and looked around, but didn't find what she was looking for. She turned the light off and the whole world felt empty.

I knew she wouldn't fall asleep easily, and when she finally did, she'd wake up periodically. I had to wait until it was so dark I couldn't see my nose on my face before sneaking back upstairs. Since the bed was demolished, she was sleeping on the mattress on the floor. She hadn't done _that_ since we first moved in: the house wasn't finished, most of the furniture hadn't even been purchased, and she was seven months pregnant with twins. I held back a laugh and crept silently into bed with her, pulling gently on the sheets. She inhaled deeply and rolled towards me, her hands reaching instinctively for my face.

"'Ss me," I said quietly, taking her hands tenderly. (Gotta know where those things are in case she started swinging.)

"Remy… Ah dun' wanna fight…"

"I don't wanna fight, either."

"Ah missed you…" She slurred, showering my face with kisses.

"I missed you, too," I returned her gesture. Her skin was soft and smooth and warm.

"Ya didn't pick up sum chick, ditchya?"

"_Non, chere_," My mouth captured hers, forcing her lips apart and stealing her tongue. God, how I had missed her. I missed the sound of her voice and the feel of her touch. I missed the way her sex tasted before the act and how it smelled after. And I had every intention of showing her how much I had missed her. Despite my loneliness and her ugliness, I hadn't turned my attention elsewhere. She had my flesh the way she had my heart. I pressed her against the mattress, settling between her legs just the way she liked. In turn, she wrapped her legs around my waist. I laced my fingers into her hair and deepened the kiss, feeling her back arch so that her breasts pressed against my chest. In a flash, her little silky pajamas were ripped away and her hands were fishing down my pants. There was no need to rush. I grabbed her hands and held them over her head while teasing her nipples with my mouth. I moved the hardened nub between my teeth and tongue, biting just a little too hard. She gasped and rubbed her thighs together, and her knees brushed against my groin. A normal woman would've been at my mercy, but Anna was anything but. She squirmed in mock-resistance before getting too irritated to play anymore. Breaking free of my grip, she used her thighs to pin me against the mattress. Then her lips and teeth were latched to my ear lobe and working some nerve under my jaw that ran right to my sex. She removed my clothes a little too roughly and I heard my shirt rip like a napkin.

"Owe me a new one," I muttered.

"Sorry," she purred against my neck with a smile.

My hands slid down her taunt stomach to the brown patch of hair between her legs. But she was already tearing my pants open. Hey, if she wanted fast and hard, I could do that, too. Garments discarded, she hovered over me for a moment. The space between us sparked with anticipation. I could feel the shadow of her soft and invincible flesh pressed against me like an echo. I knew the flow of her thigh to hip to waist to breast better than I knew the path of the sun. She guided my cock into her entrance, that feeling of home and nirvana together, and set the pace: quick and hard and furious. We groaned and threw ourselves into it. I could feel pleasure washing over us and dragging away like waves on the surf, returning each time she slammed down on me. God, was she beautiful. Chestnut tresses cascaded around her face and down her shoulders, highlighted by those rebellious white locks. Her head was titled back slightly and her eyes shut but her mouth opened, begging to be kissed. Her breasts were free and visible even though the night, and her little bottom was working furiously to find her release. My mind slipped under the haze, too. I was glad to be used, eager to please her. The last of her patience evaporated and she fucked me as hard as she could.

I gripped the bed sheets. _Mon Dieu_, yes, I had missed her, too, but she was going to shatter my damn pelvis!

"_Chere_-"

"Ah'm so close… Oh God, Remy!_"_

I rapidly punched her hip bone (our version of a safety word), and she let up for a moment. I grabbed her ass, lifted her and kneeled behind her. She looked over her shoulder at me with swollen lips and pleading eyes, and my body leapt on hers. With her on her hands and knees, she was pretty helpless, but she'd only stay for so long if I didn't give the lady what she wanted. I held her waist and entered her slowly, feeling her clench and stretch. Half way in, I stopped and backed out just as slowly. She groaned in sync with my cock pulling out and lowered her front to the bed, spreading her legs even further in desperation. I had a straight shot all the way to her womb. When I pushed in again, she was soaking wet and burning up. I slapped her ass, one side and then the other, back and forth and back again while fucking her with slow and shallow strokes. She was torn between jerking away and pushing back, and with nothing better to do with her frustrations, she cried out. Unable to smother a satisfied grin, I gripped her hips and pounded into her until my bones rattled.

Her body, which had been lithe, tightened up again. She braced with her arms and arched her hips back so that her ass was turned completely towards me. Then her cries morphed from soft and desperate to sharp and excited. I knew I'd found that sensitive spot buried not so deep inside, and she was melting with delight. Quite literally, actually… Her juices had spilled out so much that they were running down both our legs, and in the back of my mind I wondered if she'd hadn't climaxed already. No, she was too energetic. She hadn't come yet, but she was close. And she wasn't the only one. I was holding on by my fingernails and if she reached around to touch me, I'd be a goner. I had to move things along. I fisted her hair and jerked her head back, then softly traced her lips with my free hand. She took my fingers in her mouth, sucking them blindly and without concern. The dual sensation of her mouth and cunt working my digits was almost too much and I ripped my fingers back with a wet pop. Pushing her head down into the pillow, I brought my saliva-covered fingers back to her final entrance and dove in without warning. She tensed up and cried out again, this time sounding irritated. But I was desperate to get her off. I was so close.

"Dat's it, _chere_," My voice sounded rough, even to me. "Show me how tight y' are…"

Her panting grew louder, throwing her voice into some high-pitched, primal mode. She was right on the verge and I thought I'd be alright. But then she snaked her hand down between her legs and cupped my balls. They were already drawn up, ready to unload, and the slightest touch from her cool fingers made me come so hard I saw stars. I was only half inside her when I spilled out the first time, but the second and third shots reached her deepest core. All my energy dissipated and it took all my will power not to collapse on her like a Neanderthal. As my climax receded, I felt hers peak. She cried out in ecstasy and her body milked my softening member, adding to the copious amounts of cum. We fell together, all of our senses swimming in the afterglow as we drifted off to sleep.

.::.

The sun rose and warmed the mattress on the floor. Anna stirred and realized she wasn't alone. At first, she smiled, but then she remembered…

"Ya _planned_ that."

"Couldn't've planned it better," I flashed my most charming smile.

I could tell that a small part of her still wanted to be angry with me, but mostly she was pissed at herself for taking me back. I learned years ago that Anna will agree to _anything_ if it's keeping her from sleep. Besides, we'd already had make-up sex. It was too late to take it back!

.::.

As usual, Belle was the first one out of bed and making breakfast. Lena arrived promptly at seven-thirty, as she did every morning when she didn't work all night. It was a school day, but no one was going to school. There was a rehearsal dinner and in-laws flying in and last minute errands to be done before the wedding tomorrow. Miraculously, the teenagers managed to pull themselves together in record time; Honor and Renegade were dressed and eating breakfast when I shuffled through and poured a cup of _café noir._ Belle did a double-take and then shot me a dirty look. I knew she thought Anna should've left me on the porch, but she wouldn't say that in front of our daughter. I settled down at the table with the kids, sharing their citrus slices (oranges and grapefruits), and felt like a million bucks.

.::.

"_Grandpére!"_ Becca and Ollie screeched in unison and sprinted down the terminal to grab my father's leg.

Honor was running after them, but not to greet Jean-Luc. She was running to his stepdaughter, Mona, who was Honor's age and one of her best friends. The two of them are like sisters, really; sometimes they're best friends and sometimes they're rivals, always to the twin beats of affection and envy.

"Ma-ma-ma-Mmmona!" Honor did a funny little dance as she sang the girl's name.

"_Honoriiiiita!_" Mona responded, joining in the dance. She was a pretty girl with hazel eyes, creamy skin and dark hair cut in a bob.

The two of them more or less fell on each other, giggling and rambling too quickly in various French and English words. My daughter could _not_ have looked anymore ridiculous. Funny, you think they'll stop embarrassing you at _some_ point… Another girl joined them, someone I'd never seen before. She was shorter than the other two with shoulder-length black hair and blue almond-shaped eyes. Her arms were crossed and her pointed chin lowered, and her eyes looked distastefully at my daughter.

Honor sobered up and smiled weakly. "Hi Del…"

"'Oo said 'oo would _call_," the girl said irritably. After an extremely awkward silence, she burst into a fit of giggles and covered her face. "Ay can't do eet!"

Honor laughed and hugged the girl, "You really had me goin'!"

Jean-Luc lifted the twins in one arm each. "Oh, my heart! Look how we've _grown_!"

"Yep!" Becca smiled, "We're _really_ getting' big!"

"I ate soup! And it was _hot_!" Ollie bragged about his battle-scars.

So eager to grow up.

Marguerite, Jean-Luc's wife, approached with a young man by her side. She had sons, but I was under the impression they were much older than Mona. This boy looked like he could've been her twin. He had olive-skin, curly black hair and the jaw-line you normally see on underwear models. While Marge and Anna were kissing cheeks, I looked at the kid and asked Jean-Luc, "Charles or Guillaume?"

"My apologies, let me make introductions… Ladies first. Dis is Mona St. Claire, my stepdaughter. Her friend, Delphine Dufort. And Parisian representative, Edgard Bonnaire."

Jean-Luc went on to introduce my family to our French kin, and I did my best to be interested. Bonnaire was the Paris Guildmaster. I'd never met the man, but this was too much of a coincidence. Perhaps he would send a representative to Jean-Luc's wedding (I could understand him even sending one to my daughter's), but I was a nobody. At least to the Guild. As a child, I was second in line to Henri. After he died, Belle stole my family's birthright and passed it on to that charlatan Daumier. When Honor turned thirteen, she took it back. I was always somewhere in the picture, but never at the forefront. So for the Guildmaster of one of the world's largest Guilds to send a representative – a clan member, no less! – meant Jean-Luc had his hands in this. He wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice his family for the advancement of the Guild, either. If I were Logan, I would've growled.

..

To Be Continued…

..


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I do not own.

**Making a Big Stink**

**Chapter Five**

Ollie looked over the counter and said, "We need t' get married, please."

The woman smiled back at him, "You're a little young for me, sweetie, but come back in about twenty years."

He looked back at me, his little face scrunched in confusion, and I couldn't help but laugh. As I approached the woman behind her desk, she smiled politely and asked, "Marriage license?" I dug out my identification material while Anna chased after Becca. There wasn't a wait to get our papers, but finding the right office had taken some time, and the _petites_ were restless. They'd been acting out a lot lately; I suppose with the wedding debacle, no one had been paying them the attention they usually got. Come to think of it, the older kids were unhappy, too. The sooner this horse and pony show got over with, the better. Strange, I don't remember this much trouble with my first wedding – the one to Belle. Everyone had done everything _for_ us. All I had to do was _show up._ And the first time I married Anna, there was nothing to do. I asked her to marry me, she said yes, we went to a church and found a priest, and that was that. We did go to dinner and the Mayor of Muir Island bought us a bottle of champagne, but really it was just her and me – the way it's meant to be. I'd wanted to do that again, plan a wedding on a lark.

From the county court house, we headed into the city. Jean-Luc lent us his chauffeured Lexus for the day. At first, I refused, but good thing he insisted. The entire afternoon was spent on the phone with a toddler in each ear and a never-ending agenda. I considered skipping the party all together – certainly everyone could do without us.

"No, no! Ah spoke with _Pippa Morris_ on Wednesday, and _she_ said-!"

"Momma, could you fix m' pony tail?"

"_Mais_, I don't care what your records show! De money _ain't_ dere and dat means-"

"_Look_, Papa! A fire truck!"

Finally, the car stopped and the _petites_ bounced in their seats, exclaiming, "We're here! We're here!"

I realized we'd stopped in front of a restaurant I knew very well. Anna and I had had our first date here. First _real_ date, anyway; without an audience or Armageddon interrupting us. It was a tiny place with hard wood floors, crisp white linens and long candles that burned down every night. The food was superb – if pricey – but it was the sentimental notion I was _really_ paying for. Back then, I was crazy for her; she was twisting her napkin with guilt. Illyanna had just perished, and Anna didn't think she should be happy. But it was the first time we'd ever been alone in an easy setting, and by the end of the night, she was spilling her secrets since she couldn't shed her clothes. Seeing the place made us smile now, although we remained on separate, angry phone calls. We pushed the twins out but stayed, and watched them hop to Honor, who was waiting outside. She waved to us – we waved back – and then Edgard stepped out and joined her. Their eyes met, and in the nanoseconds before they smiled at each other, I understood _exactly_ why Jean-Luc brought him.

I quickly wrapped up my phone call and kissed Anna's cheek. "Why didn't we pay someone t' do dis for us?"

She covered the mouth piece of her cell phone and said, "Ya did, sugah. It's called child labor."

I rushed out to intercept the two attractive teenagers before they realized what two attractive teenagers could do, when my _pére_ joined us. "Ah, _mon fils_," Jean-Luc greeted me, "Glad you made it. Shall we step inside? De other representatives are waitin'."

"_Quoi?"_

"Guild representatives," Honor supplied with an easy smile. She grabbed my hand and led me inside.

The restaurant was much larger empty. Half the tables had been cleared away, leaving half the room available for socializing or – God forbid – dancing. The remaining tables seated four or five and were decorated with bone china, polished silverware, bright flower arrangements and crisp white napkins. The tables themselves were bare, and the windows were all thrown open. Six helping hands waited patiently in the background, and although the room was full of guests, no one had taken their seats yet. Glancing around the room before Jean-Luc made his introductions; I already knew most of the faces. Did we have to make a production out of _everything_?

Anna entered and slid a hand around my arm. Instantly, the atmosphere changed. My heart raced and air seemed to come easier. Bobby, Kurt, Professor Xavier and Jubilee – their faces lit up like Christmas. Wolverine and Stormy shifted their eyes away from the twins and smiled politely, but we couldn't compare to their godkids. I wanted to fade into familiar circles, too. Just greet and pass and be left alone with my wife and kids. The X-Men knew me well enough to give me the space I wanted. My father, on the other hand, was always pushing me and mine as if we were his to mold into his perfect image. Today was no exception. He drug Anna and me around to formerly greet the representatives: my sister-in-law Mercy and Renegade's betrothed Marie-Therese from the Southeast; Vaughn and Frederick Daumier from the Southwest; Poppy Rowley and Zack Mackay from the New York City Guild; and Abigail-Jane L'Montagne and Dylan de la Hoya from Las Vegas. _C'est bein ma chancel!_ I didn't want to see _any_ of these people, especially not Mercy, who was responsible for this chaos! The Daumiers were kin to the man who stole my father's birthright. I didn't personally know the New York City couple, but they knew my clan. Before Renegade's adoption, he'd been with the New York sect, and left under strained circumstances. I thought he'd cleared things after Honor outted him as a deserter, but Poppy attached herself to Marie and whispered in her ear all night. I knew this could only end badly - and the poor kid wasn't even around to defend himself! But Vegas was the worst. During my younger, wilder days, I took up with A.J. and Dylan while cleaning out a chain of casinos. I left Nevada thinking I'd never see them again. We'd parted on good terms, which was fine at the time, but those "good terms" brought them back around when they didn't need to be.

Anna must've noticed my anxiety. She looked them over, stared me down, and whispered harshly in my ear, "Really, Remy? _Both_ of them?"

"It was _ages_ ago, chere."

There was a time when she would've smoldered her rage, only to let it boil over at a worse time. This time, she just patted my hand and said with faux-sweetness, "Don't go gettin' any ideas. Ah already got mah babies. Ah'll rip it off if Ah have to!"

"You don't want no more babies?" I asked with a big, stupid grin.

Jubilee found us after our introductions and made herself friendly with _mon pére_. Young people just flock to him – I don't see the appeal, myself. But I took the opportunity to sneak out for a smoke. On the way out, I saw Vaughn Daumier sneak out of the kitchen. He smiled nervously and said, "Sorry, Mr. LeBeau, appetite got de better of me! You… not say not'ing…?"

I passed by, not bothering to answer. That kid always bothered me, and he's been harassing my daughter since day one. When they were _petites_, he bullied the hell out of her because of her eyes. My eyes. He _ought_ to count himself lucky to be breathing. Now he's bothering her for something else: been chasing her tail since… _Oui_, since her tits came in four years ago... He's tried to redeem himself, but I know better than anyone how unredeemable he is.

"Light?" a gruffy, male voice offered. Logan had beaten me to the isolated alley out back, but he'd never smoke that cigar down before I finished my cigarette. Matter of fact, he might spend the rest of the day trying to whittle that thing out. Guess that was the point.

I declined his lighter and charged the end of my smoke. "I know dis not your cup of tea, Wolverine, but you look like de dog who lost his bone. I ain't riddin' int' de sunset wit' you, so if dat's why you're here, y' better just leave."

"Ass-hole," he grumbled, "Don't know what she sees in you."

"It's me charm."

He gave a short, dry laugh. "I don't understand women these days, Gumbo. They don't make 'm like they use to…"

My heart hardened. I knew we weren't talking about Anna – he knew her better than the others – but about Stormy. No one's ever _really_ understood her, least of all a killer-for-hire. The only sort of woman Wolverine gets is the sort that plays along with his fantasy of what a woman should be, like his dear Mariko or dead Jean Grey.

"_Mon ami_, if you lookin' for a housewife t' tend you, don't go lookin' at de windrider."

I left without waiting for him to respond.

I returned to the sound of piano and a woman's voice. Honor was playing for Jean-Luc's wife, Marguerite. Years ago, she sang in her uncle's club in Paris. She went on to buy that establishment, and it's where she eventually met my father. Maybe she thought singing was beneath her now, but she had an amazing voice – smoky and deep like good Bourbon and a heavy Parisian accent. The audience was spell-bond. I don't think anyone even realized I'd stepped out. They finished to a standing ovation, and then we dined.

The whole room spoke at once. Honor and her entourage were by far the loudest: flirting and laughing and dancing with everyone but Vaughn. He might've slinked away with his tail between his legs, but he kept trying to catch Honor's eye. She attached herself to Mona, but Mona took to Kurt. So then Honor took to Edgard, who was more than happy to indulge her. The X-Men were nosily catching up with each other. They moved from table to table, asking about Jubilee's college campus and Hank's work on the Legacy Virus and when Alex and Lorna would be joining the married clique. There was some tension between Logan and Stormy. If anyone else noticed, they hid it well. Good for her; the man deserved her coldness. I know no one controls the whims of their heart, but Logan wanted _another man's wife_ above the incredible Stormy. She's better than his _second place_. On the bright side, Anna was positively beside herself to see all her old friends. They doted on our kids and repeatedly showered her with well wishes. Meanwhile, I was trying to coax said children into finishing their dinner and keep my eldest out of the wine cellar. All my distractions didn't bother Edgard. After the main course and before dessert, he approached me very formerly.

"Monsieur LeBeau – might I 'ave a moment?"

"Sure t'ing, _homme_, take a seat."

"Thank you very much. I 'ave been speaking with Honour, and vould very much like to escort 'er to your vedding. This is… okay?"

Hell, it was _my_ party and _my_ daughter; I had every right to refuse. I asked, "How do you know Monsieur Bonnaire?"

The boy hesitated, but then flashed me a winning smile. "Monsieur Alphonso Bonnaire ess my _oncle_. He ess my father's brother and very important to zee… _family_. He ess a good friend to Jean-Luc, and nearing, uh – _retirement_. He 'as no children and no chosen heir-"

"I didn't ask for your pedigree papers, son. Go ask her; I ain't got no problems wit' it."

"_Merci beaucoup, monsieur."_

I looked back at Honor's table. Vaughn's efforts hadn't been wasted – he had Mona on one arm and Delphine on the other. He'd probably spend the night with _both_ of them.

Across the room, I saw Anna talking with Lorna and Cecilia. She was too distant to hear, but I saw her lips say: 'Ah'm so happy!', and it made me smile. Feeling my eyes on her, she turned with a smile, too. This was what she really wanted – a day to share with everyone she loved. Family always meant more to her than it did to me, but even _she_ must've realized how silly we looked: the Southern Bell and her superhero kin-by-love, and the scoundrel with his criminal associations.

Dessert was served and then Honor addressed the room, "Okay, thanks to everyone for coming, but if I could _please_ get everyone _not_ in the wedding party to vamoose, we need to rehearse."

No, we really _didn't_. Walking down the aisle's a straight shot – a _monkey_ could manage it. The little ones weren't involved, but they were acting out so badly that even Stormy was ready to beat them. We're lucky she agreed to take them at all; I would've killed them. They were putting Anna in a foul mood. All of these factors motivated me to rush through the practice, which added to my wife's malcontent. I didn't think I'd done anything wrong until Honor "practiced" her entrance with Edgard. They glowed at each other, just as happy as two kids could be, and she exclaimed, "I _love_ weddings!" My under aged daughter and a boy she'd just met shouldn't be the happiest people here.

I gripped Anna's hand and whispered in her ear, "Dat dress you wearin' tomorrow – does de skirt lift easy?"

"_Remy!"_ She said scandalously as a smile lit up her beautiful face. "Have some shame, swamp rat!"

She made my heart lighter. "I ain't marryin' you for your smarts, girl."

She laughed and punched my chest, so that even if no one heard us, they could've guessed the nature of our conversation by her reaction. After practice, we took our time leaving while the restaurant hurried to get ready for the dinner rush. I meant to go home and shower and tuck in my kids, but my brothers-in-arms had other plans.

"What's the rush, Cajun?" Bobby asked as I buckled the twins into the back seat. "Let your old man take 'm; we can grab a cold one before you head home. It's your last night as a single man and all."

"Ah don't think you're his type," said Anna with a smile.

"_Oh, let him go,"_ Jubilee encouraged, wrapping an arm around my wife, "You've got a show of your own to catch."

"A show?"

"Absolutely! You can't just sit around while he gets to have all the fun! Come on, we'll catch a movie or something."

"A movie?" I repeated and the corners of my mouth twitched. These two were terrible liars, but they seemed so excited about it. I figured my wedding day would be at the whim of others, but I didn't know they got the day before, too. _C'est la vie._ True, I wasn't particularly eager to lend my wife out to a group of money-hungry man whores _or_ regain my reputation as the town bicycle with these squares… I would've much rather preferred to go out with Anna – at least I enjoyed her company. Drop a few bucks and put the charm on a pretty girl, might end up with a _ménage a trios_. Now _that's_ how to ring in a wedding! But it was a convenient excuse to cut loose. And it'd be worth any trouble to see Hank's face when a working girl tried to rob him blind. So I gave my kids a quick kiss good-night and reached for my second wind.

.::.

It wasn't a place I'd ever been to before (I don't think it even had a name), but I wasn't on the club scene anymore. It was nice, too; the sort of place I always imagined myself at. Heavy, lustful music thumped in time with rainbow colored strobe lights, and the crowd on the floor pulsed as one. The walls were lined with human-sized cubby holes poorly covered with transparent curtains. I knew what went on behind those curtains without looking, but Drake stared like a slack-jawed hick. He probably thought the _femmes_ were coaxed out of their clothes with cheap words rather than money, and that the _hommes_ were driven by passion instead of insecurities so deep they could only be slated by absolute sexual dominance. Getting laid was the whole point of coming here, and the place was clearly dedicated to it. They provided the girls, the condoms, the beds, the drugs and the liquor. Suddenly, I was glad Anna hadn't come with; she didn't need to know places like this existed.

Logan spoke with the hostess, who led us upstairs to a quieter room with steady, dim lights and beautiful women tending the bar and card table. Whatever we went lacking in that night, it wouldn't be _company_. The club had already provided the room with them: a red-head named Amanda was the barkeep; the dealer was a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman named Sandra; and our hostess was a brunette named Brandy. I knew they were working girls by their Emma Frost-esque demeanors… cool, detached but alluring personalities. The blond attached herself to me and listened with surprising compassion while I vaguely discussed my wife and kids. I think most _hommes_ aim to impress the ladies, and talk up their jobs or incomes or possibly their sexual prowess. Sandy didn't talk about herself, but I could tell by her reaction that she had a child and no man in her life. When she asked me very personal, sentimental things like, "You really care about her, don't you?" or "What makes her so special?" I tried to answer in ways that wouldn't crush her feelings. My experience is that women handle words like grenades – you never want to give them a live one.

Alex was more attracted to the walls, which were transparent and overlooked the dance floor. This was the sort of room that some would use as a throne and select beauties from the crowd to join them on their cloud. I had never been the picker, but had been the picked on a few occasions. (If I'd known they were _men_, I wouldn't have gone!) Not surprisingly, Alex stood at the window and looked at the crowd for a while. I guess when you get below the surface, those Summers' are more alike than you think. They need the thrill of knowing the world's theirs for the plucking. He did eventually select a woman with vivid red hair named Heidi to keep him company. Heidi brought her friend, Miko, and the three of them played drinking games while the rest of us started a poker game. It started out friendly enough, but the stakes kept getting raised till we hit high-roller stats and the girls turned into expensive good-luck charms. Between insults and bluffs, I noticed Summers getting a little too forward with his new friends. Things must've not been so great at home if he was working on something else. It was a shame, but things happen. The real shame was that Drake didn't see what was going on, nor did he try to make something for himself. _He_ was the single one. _Jesu_, why didn't he _act_ like it?

Logan and I weren't looking for a red light special, so we created a grand story about Hank to divert their attention. He worked with disabled mutant kids and had connections to the highest level of the government; in his free time, he helped Cambridge University with their expeditions to Egyptian tombs. Those girls ate it up. Hank flushed burgundy, but played along to keep the ladies from feeling foolish for believing us. (Least, I _think_ that's why he did it.) They actually seemed eager to hear everything he had to say, and were soon hanging onto Hank helplessly.

"Excuse me, ladies!" he bellowed, once he finally accepted that they weren't listening to his thorough explanation about UN policies in archeological discoveries. "I am a _married_ man, and I do not appreciate these overtly sexual advances!"

Logan and I laughed from our smoky table. "_Oui_, he ain't a piece a' meat!"

Brandy picked up his left hand and traced his large fingers with her dainty ones. "I don't see a _ring_."

"I am a _doctor_," he explained, "I perform _surgery_. Jewelry creates a hindrance to my work. Hence, I do not wear a wedding ring. Besides," he sighed, losing patience, "You can _clearly_ observe the generous diameter of my fingers. _Where_ do you propose I purchase a ring large enough to accommodate them?"

"Yeah, you're a big guy," Amanda cooed, "Big hands, big feet, big nose…"

From the bar, Drake griped, "What's a guy gotta do t' getta drink around here?"

Without complaint, Amanda removed herself from Hank's side and quickly made him another gin and tonic. We all looked at him sideways (weddings turned him into a real ass), but it was Hank who challenged him.

"Perhaps what you need is not another drink, my friend. I am certain we could acquire a cup of coffee."

"To Gambit!" Bobby proclaimed, holding up his refilled glass. "Playboy extraordinaire! Last man on _earth_ I'd expect t' walk down the aisle! And to _Rogue_, no less!"

The room became toxic. Even the girls seemed to take the comment as the worst sort of insult, but I didn't really know how to take it. I hadn't been a "playboy" since I became a father (those rugrats eat all your free time), and from the day I set eyes on Anna, there'd been no doubt in my mind that I'd marry her. I lifted my beer bottle back to him and said lightly, "T' Iceman. Last man on earth t' walk down de aisle!"

His eyes flashed, but Alex quickly jumped in. "Hey! Not a bad club to be in, is it, girls?"

The _bonne á riens_ at his side giggled and Sandra, the blond, rushed back to put her body between Drake and me. She smiled pleasantly and offered to shuffle the cards for another round. I glanced at the _chure_ and saw it written on his face – he wanted my wife. He'd lost at love (again), and now he was trying to make _me_ sick about it.

I could suppress a laugh. "Hey, Drake! Next time y' put your eyes on a girl, see dat she ain't eyein' de _homme_ behind you!"

"Alright, Gambit-" Alex started. He was only playing hero because Bobby still carried a torch for Lorna and everyone knew it. You'll never see me jumping to Magneto's defense, but guilt does strange things to a person.

But Drake didn't rise to my bait. He quietly turned his back to us and told his drink, "I'm gonna die alone…"

Everyone, excluding Hank, roared with laughter.

Hank said kindly, "Bobby, please, you've over indulged in the barley and rye. Being single is _not_ the end of the world."

Suddenly, the room shook so violently that the ladies were thrown to their feet and several glasses shattered on the bar. I braced against the table and heard Logan involuntarily unsheathe his claws as he did the same. Sandra screamed. A breath later, I heard a several cries downstairs and then the pandemonium of a stampede.

Ever on cue, Hank noted, "Perhaps I spoke too soon…"

We left the room, and once outside, could see a fight on the dance floor. One player was a mutant and he was randomly lashing out with controlled sonic booms which crumbled everything in his way. There was no telling what had happened. Maybe he'd been told to leave; maybe he was high on rage. Didn't really matter either way. He was a danger and no one here would call the cops – not a room full of dealers and druggies and whores. We were all pretty lucky that night. The bystanders were lucky we'd picked this place, and I was lucky this guy went _fou_. There's only one way you can walk away from a working girl, and I wasn't looking forward to it. What other choice did I have? Take her back to my place? If we got past the security alarms, the nanny and the kids, I still had an ex and a wife to worry about. This night wasn't ending without a fight and _this_ one was the best possible kind.

"Dr. McCoy," I said, "Would you see dat dese ladies land on dere feet?"

Logan leapt over the railing and down onto the floor.

"I shall, indeed," Hank answered. He grabbed Drake's collar and pulled him along for the deed. Can't say for certain what his motivation was, but I didn't need Popsicle mucking things up with bad decisions. He'd made enough for the night.

I charged a card and tossed it at the aggressor. It exploded brilliantly, knocking him off balance. He looked up, surprised.

"Yeah, I can make big noises, too," I said.

The man was gearing up to launch a blast at me when Logan got him from behind. The Canadian tackled him to the ground and twisted the assaulting hands painfully behind his back. Logan thought his powers were restricted just to his hands. Most offensive mutant powers work that way, but not this guy's. He threw a wave behind him, knocking Logan up to the ceiling. He even left a little Wolverine print. Glad it wasn't me!

"You got this?" Summers asked me as he ran after Hank.

I leapt off the platform and threw cards to keep this prick off his feet. I was only trying to confuse him. He scrambled backwards like a four-legged crab and stumbled over Logan's limp body. At the unexpected contact, my stocky comrade sprang like a trap. He gripped the intruder and pinned him to the floor, slamming his face against the colorful cement plates. I heard a _crack_ and the sharp smell of blood hit my nostrils. Chunks of crimson stained the floor. Logan looked up, challenging me with an unflinching, blue gaze. It was overkill and we both knew it, but it had been his call. The threat was removed. In that respect, the mission was a success.

"Hey!" Alex called, shattering my thoughts. He'd blown out a wall so people could leave quicker. They'd all been bottle-necking at the doors. Amazingly, throughout the chaos, he still had Heidi and Miko. "You guys bringing him? Or you just gonna wait with him till the cops show?"

…

We didn't wait for the cavalry to arrive. Some places will land you in jail just for knowing about it, and that place was one. Since we were in the city, we easily blended into the crowd (as well as you can with a 450 lb. blue man), and let our feet lead us home.

Alex looked at his watch, "Wonder if the girls are home yet…"

"Depends," I said. "Bobby, what time does _Chippendales_ close?"

"Oh, hardy har... Does anyone even know where they went?" asked Drake.

We all exchanged blank looks and finally Alex shrugged, "Don't ask, don't tell."

"Well," Hank scoffed, "I feel confident that line will not go well with 'Cilia. She _will_ ask _and_ expect to be answered… Gambit, I turn to your silver tongue for an acceptable alibi."

"_Moi_? Tell her de truth, _monsieur bête!"_

"Don't believe I'm hearin' this…" said Logan.

"She gonna s'pect, _mon ami_," I continued. "You covered in glitter-"

Hank looked down and gasped at the evidence.

"-and you can scrub all night, you never get rid of it all."

"In the words of T.S. Eliot, 'It is generally the feminine eye that first detects the moral deficiencies hidden under the dear deceit of beauty'!"

"Lost me, blue," said Bobby.

"It means my wife's going to be livid!" He tried using his massive fingers to pluck off the tiny, shining pieces of guilt, but they stuck to his fingertips. "Of all the vices, this is one she will _not_ forgive! My stars… And unlike my furless compatriots, a shower simply will not do. I require three hours under a blow-dryer! If she does not notice the evidence, she will certainly notice the cover-up!"

"Don't sweat it," Logan said, "Iceman's got an extra bed."

…

_Mon pére_ was waiting up when I got home. Funny, he never did that when I was a kid. First words out of his mouth were, "Honor and her friends ain't come home yet… 'Cept de Bonnaire boy, he not feelin' t' good. Marguerite told me not t' wait up, but I couldn't sleep anyways. Oh, and I promised de _petites_ you'd kiss 'm good-night. Don't you make a liar outta me t' dem."

"And Anna?" I asked, heading upstairs.

"_Oui_, she's 'round."

As silent as a shadow, I crept into Ollie and Becca's room and kissed them good. Becca had dropped her stuffed dragon, so I put him back under her arm and left them sleeping.

Anna was getting out of the shower as I came in. I had to wait on the hot water to build back up again, so I crashed on the bed and watched her get dressed. Her knees have the most adorable scars.

"Earth ta Remy! Ah said, how was your night?"

"Uh… _Mais_, we didn't make de movie."

"No shit," she pulled a t-shirt over her glorious breasts, "We got some drinks and saw a fight."

"Really? Me, too."

Her face lit up and she went on, "It was a big heavy weight fight in the city. They were both undefeated, so Ah didn't have a favorite till the second round. The guy in black – can't remember his name – anyways, he was real cocky. Kept hittin' below the belt and lockin' the other guy's head. Ah wanted ta see 'm get creamed!"

"And did y'?"

"It was a fourth round knockout! That dipwad got one good blow ta the head and-" She stumbled around the room like a drunk with the spins. "He was cross eyed and everything!" She sat on the bed beside me and smiled, "Ah never knew Ah could have so much fun watchin' someone _else_ fight! And honestly, Ah'm glad they didn't try takin' me ta some trashy male strip joint… If Ah wanted random male genitals shoved in my face, Ah wouldn't be gettin' married."

…

_To Be Continued_

…

**Author's Notes: **Sorry again for the delay in postings. Just one more chapter to go, so you won't have to deal with it much longer! I hate posting something before I have the entire story finished. In my defense, I have an insane amount of things to juggle in my personal life. Thanks for reading and please leave a review!

French translations:  
_C'est bien ma chanel – _just my luck

_Bonne á riens_ – good-for-nothing girls. Bimbos.

_Fou_ – crazy

_Chure_ – actually Cajun slang for a disliked person. Similar to dick or asshole.


	6. Chapter 6

**Making A Big Stink**

**Chapter Six**

Leaving Anna while she was pregnant was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Not just because I didn't want to – although I _didn't_ – but because I had no choice. Whenever I'm pushed into a corner, my whole body rebels. My chest gets tight and my legs get restless. It's like Stormy's claustrophobia except my cage is invisible. Why would I desert the woman carrying my children? It was the right thing to do. My daughter needed me, and I couldn't fail her. I wanted to protect her. If I let her down this time, she could die or lose her mind and never forgive me. I would never forgive myself, so I had to go, even with the very real possibility that I'd be gone for months. Anna would suffer morning sickness, doctor visits, and swollen feet without me. She might have to confront the rumors and defend my absence against critics. The worst case scenario was if Honor's treatment took longer than seven or eight months. I couldn't miss the birth and first days of their lives, but I also couldn't be in two places at once. No matter what I did, I was abandoning someone.

Turns out, while I was torturing myself with nightmares of my little girl locked away and my love slowly dying to support my unborn children, Anna was doing very well. She hadn't _told_ anyone, but several people already knew. Hank noticed her scheduling appointments in the city and knew she'd only seek outside medical attention for one reason. Emma, as a telepath, heard the twins' first thoughts, and told Scott. Stormy noticed Anna holding and watching her tummy, and she confided in Jean, who also told Scott. Wolverine smelled the change in her body chemistry. Like most secrets at the mansion, it wasn't much of a secret at all. She was spoiled and subjected to every host of superstitions for pregnant women. (No spicy foods, too much food, don't look at fire or a new moon, no heavy lifting and plenty of laughter.) And when Anna decided she missed me and wanted to see me, she hopped on a plane and flew to Muir Island. To hell with MacTaggert's "restrictions"! I don't know what I was thinking, worrying like an old woman over her. She was a grown adult, not my child, and she could fend for herself. Like always, no one was going to _put_ her somewhere or _keep_ her away from what she wanted.

That's what I love about her and that's why I married her.

…

I woke up in a funk.

Why was I dreaming about Muir Island the night before my wedding? I hated that place. Hated it _more_ since my daughter's incarceration. The smell of latex and Lysol with artificially chilled air against mind-numbing white made me want to jump out a window.

Half asleep, I rolled over and tried to find Anna, but something prevented me. I took a few strong breaths and tried to move my legs, but they tangled over a little, warm body at the foot of the bed. She was just a blurry lump hidden under the blankets, but I knew Becca by her smell. I pulled her up to the warm spot between Anna and me and watched her curl up like a kitten without waking. The sun poured in, chasing away the evil spirits that haunted my sleep. My wife opened her blood-shot eyes and smiled.

"Dat's de advantage t' dese eyes," I said, "No one's gonna _see_ I'm hung over."

"At least Ah don't _stink_ like hell," she waved my breath away.

Not long after, the door opened and Ollie peaked in with a quiet, "Becky?" He had her stuffed dragon tucked securely in his arms, as if he were afraid he'd dreamed her entire existence, and this was his last hope for proving he wasn't mad.

Anna reached out her tattooed arm to him, and the bed got very crowded. I didn't mind. For a brief, delicious moment, our family was complete. _I _was complete. But once the twins were fully awake, they'd be down the hall looking for breakfast. They were little people now, not babies anymore. Sometimes, like now, you could get them to lie still in your arms, but mostly they wanted to prove their independence. Always fighting or climbing or the like. Anna struggled for a little while to hold our son, but he finally got away after a hug and fleeting kiss. Becca climbed off the bed, carelessly flashing her little girl underwear, and they raced downstairs like rolls of thunder. Anna watched them with sad, green eyes.

"Ah guess they don't need _me_ anymore…"

…

"Up, ladies!" I shouted at the immobile lumps that were Honor, Mona and Delphine. They groaned and shuffled or turned away from me. "_UP!"_

"_Get out!"_ Honor shouted back and threw her pillow at me. It hit the wall and she re-buried herself like a clam in the ocean of her bed.

Determined to leave without her, I rushed out. Still had to shave; if she wanted to sleep, I wasn't going to fight her. Descending her spiral staircase in a rotten mood, I almost collided into Belle as she passed me, hauling a bucket full of ice and water. She was dressed and ready to go, which meant Hero and Renegade were ready to leave, too. Meanwhile, our eldest slept as if she never meant to wake.

"What's dat?" I smiled.

"We used t' do _shit_ like dis, too, remember?"

"Oui, I 'member. Except we got up when we were s'post t'."

"Exactly. Means we been too _soft_ on her."

I skipped back up the staircase and made a grand gesture of opening the door for her. Without warning, she spilled a steady steam over Mona and Delphine. They screamed like witches burning at the stake and fell off their air mattresses. Honor peaked out, but too late. Belle threw most of the water on her blankets, which she kicked away with a blood-piercing cry. "What the FUCK?"

"Now dat I got y' awake," Belle said in a livid tone barely covered in sugary-sweetness, "I can say we're gonna be leavin' in five minutes. And I mean _five minutes_, girls, so get your _asses_ movin'! 'Cause if I gotta come back up here, I'm draggin' y' out by de roots a' your hair!"

"I HATE YOU!" Honor screamed.

"Talk back t' me _once more_, Honor Julien, and _see_ what happens."

Her red-on-black eyes burned, but her mouth remained firmly shut. With a pleased nod, Belle left, closing the door behind her. I had to peel myself off the railing and wipe away tears. Maybe laughter wasn't the best answer to these confrontations (which had been increasing lately), but I think it was.

"Sorry, Belle, I'll talk t' her-"

"No worries," she said lightly. "Not on y' weddin' day. If I gotta treat her like a petite t' get her t' behave like an adult, dat's what I'll do. Oh, I got a favor t' ask."

"Of course."

"Y' mind if I bring a date?"

That brought my smile back. "Date? I t'ought you was asexual! Y' just rip out dere hearts and take dere baby-makin' parts!"

"Y' coulda just said _no_."

"Hold de phones, chere, I don' care who y' bring. Gonna be twelve hundred people dere - ain't like I'm gonna notice anyway."

She looked slightly uncomfortable. "I only ask because… Remy, don't get upset, but Luc might make a scene."

"Who _you_ date ain't been _his_ concern for a long time, Belle."

"Not exactly."

We'd reached Honor's playing room, which was at the end of her staircase and separated her tower from the rest of the house. We were alone here, but Belle went further by locking the door. We were getting dangerously close to discussing our divorce – something we'd _never_ done. I'd seen papers legally divorcing us, but that was after her death. I'd never signed anything and I didn't know if that was a problem now that I wanted to remarry. My knees turned to jelly. Could she have picked a _worse_ time to tell me? How would I ever explain this to Anna?

"For a long time after you left N'awlins, I t'ought you were dead," she said. "After I found out you wasn't… And dat you were wit' _her_," (She meant Anna.) "I wanted a divorce. I'd been faithful t' our vows, even after you left. But after I seen dat _you_ weren't, I wanted out. It was somet'ing I needed for _me_ t' have closure. Problem was dat I knew I couldn't get you t' _sign_ anyt'ing."

"'Cause Honor's name was all over dem papers," I said bluntly.

Belle and I'd never discussed the details. It was something we sort of figured out and dealt with and moved passed. Only after Belle's death did I learn we were divorced. She never wanted to tell me because I might ask for proof, and that proof included knowledge about I child I'd never met. When Belle came back, it all seemed so _petty_. I'd dealt with the sting of her betrayal, and we had bigger problems than legal documents.

"Oui, dat's right," she continued. "But I couldn't just divorce y' wit'out y' consent. I told de courts I t'ought y' were dead, but dey said dat wasn't good enough. So I got Luc t' sign for y'. He said he hadn't seen y' in seven years and he t'ought you were dead, too. He only agreed t' do it if I agreed not t' re-marry before _Honor_ married or seek t' terminate y' parental rights. I ain't never brought another man around m' kids, so I dere ain't no tellin' how he'll react." She finished with a shrug.

"Dat ain't fair. He can't hold y' t' dat."

"_Mais_, don't ruin your good mascara over it. He only did it t' prevent a coup, and dat didn't work out, did it?"

"Wait… Is _dat_ why y' banished Jean-Luc? To marry _Franco_?"

She walked away with a smile and called over her shoulder, "Oh, de tangled webs we weave…"

…

Luckily, Marguerite had the presence of mind to make breakfast. I felt a little guilty. She was a guest in my home and working like the hired help. Luc sat at the table, reading the paper like he'd done every morning since I'd met him. He let his wife bring him his coffee with a kiss and didn't mind the traffic crisscrossing around him. I had the sudden urge to smack the back of his head, if only to bother his unnatural peace. Everyone else grabbed a piece of toast or fruit and scurried off to their assigned car. Lena was fighting to brush Ollie's teeth and Becca's hair; Belle kept running upstairs to fetch things for Anna; Honor was last through the kitchen with her dress in a bag, thrown over her shoulder.

"Wait," she said, "Where's Edgard?"

Everyone paused and looked around.

"Still not feelin' well, petite," my father answered, turning a page. "Afraid he came all dis way for naught. Makes y' wonder if it ain't somet'ing more den _jet lag_…"

"But… then who's gonna be my date?"

"I'll walk ya in, Sis," said Renegade.

"No, _you_ have to escort Marie! Especially after that _mess_ Poppy made! People will think you've broken up if you don't."

"Then Logan can do it!" Anna snapped.

"_Logan?"_

"Oh, t' be sixteen again and care about de man on your arm," Belle said dismissively.

"Who's ready t' get married?" I asked the room at large.

The twins ran out, pumping their little fists in the air and cheering.

We all seemed to have what we needed and tossed our things in the cars. Lena buckled the twins into their booster seats in the Lexus and strapped Hero into her car-seat in Belle's Rolls Royce. Jean-Luc and Marge took Mona and Delphine in their car and left first since they had the least to carry. My wife stood at the opened trunk for a moment and pointed at everything, checking it off in her mind. I pulled her close and quietly asked if she remembered the towels.

Over the chaos, Honor asked to no one in particular, "Shouldn't Logan be walking in with Tante Ro? You know, he's the man of honor and she's the best man. Woman. Whatever. They should be together."

"_Publicly?"_ Renegade asked and they laughed together.

"Ya'll keep dem jokes t' yourselves," I said. "Your tante's gettin' married and I don't t'ink she'd appreciate dat rumor gettin' out."

Honor was supposed to ride with her mother, but squeezed herself between the twins to carry on our conversation.

"She's getting _married?_ To _whom?"_

"Nobody you'd know."

"He's got a _name_, doesn't he?"

"Honor LeBeau, I've heard enough outta _you_ today."

"Sorry. Would you _please_ tell me his name?"

"He's de King of Wakanda and his name's-"

"T'Challa," my daughter finished, sounding disappointed. Then she fell back against the seat and crossed her arms. I expected all sorts of complaints, but she seemed very confused. Like me. Her silence was even more alarming than her rants. Her mind was in a dark place, I knew, and headed to a dark conclusion. I wanted to lead her away from it, but didn't know how. I also felt like Stormy was abandoning us.

My cell phone, which had been recklessly tossed in the center console, vibrated with an incoming call. Anna picked it up, looked at the number, and said. "Ah! Speak of the devil! Hey, Storm, we're off to a late start, but we're on our way… No, he's drivin', is everything okay?... Why d'ya wanna talk ta _Honor_? Ah'm right here, 'Ro! What's goin' on?"

My heart sank and the car went silent. Why did something have to go wrong today? Why did _Anna_ have to hear about it? All she wanted was this one day…

Anna's lips pursed like they always do when she's trying to cover her displeasure. "A detour?... Oh, alright, which way?" She looked off into the distance and nodded while listening. It was several, long seconds before she spoke again. "Alright, thanks. We'll see you soon. Okay, so there's a little glitch," she told us after ending her call. "We're gonna have ta cut through Salem Center. There's another car waitin' there for us, and someone's gonna drive this one as a decoy. 'Parently, someone tipped off the damn paparazzi…"

Becca giggled. "Momma said a bad word!"

"Ah sure did, sugah. Shame on me." Then, she lowered her voice and asked me, "How're we gonna get the kids past 'm?"

"Hey, I've got an idea!" Honor said loudly to the twins. "Let's play the alphabet game. _En espanol ou francais?"_

I thought to myself for a moment while the petites complained about having to speak in a foreign language. (One day they'd be grateful for it.) I couldn't let pictures of my kids fall into the wrong hands. There were too many people who'd come after them for things I've done. I didn't even want it publicly known that I'd reproduced, but it'd be stupidly obvious once I'd arrived in a car full of children who resembled me. I didn't want to go the Michael Jackson route, either, and throw a blanket over their heads, but it was becoming an attractive option. No, I was thinking too small. A big problem needed a big solution.

.::.

Storm was waiting on the deck under the mid-morning sun. Most of the X-Men were inside, where the camera lenses couldn't reach. The herd of photographers were kept at bay, but were still within eye-sight. The mob thinned out when the decoy car left Salem Center, but too many stayed behind. They couldn't follow the yacht at sea or steal any shots from the sky, but the in-between time was completely up for grabs. And they were gorging themselves on it! This insanity was almost inevitable with the contract conceived and completed in two days, and she worried for the children's safety. Would it be unethical to strike them all with a few hundred thousand volts of electricity? Personally, she was weary of being photographed. Did anyone _truly_ wish to see her pacing?

An overhead shadow broke her thoughts.

Rogue was flying towards the ship. In her hands she carried her family car like an over-sized Easter basket.

Storm's heart dropped. She _hoped_ the car was vacant, and Rogue planned to drop it on the picture-hunters. A closer look revealed the shadowed faces of two toddlers in the back seat, and Honor's less obscured face behind the steering wheel. Her breath caught in her throat until all four wheels landed safely on board. She rushed to the vehicle and rescued the giddy children from their inane mother. Despite the antic, the photographers were leaving in droves.

"In the name of all things sacred, Rogue!"

"Ready ta get this show on the road?"

"Without your _groom_?"

Rogue pointed to the dock. A masked man on a motorcycle was racing towards them. Pink flames sparked off the back tire, flickering against the wooden planks of the dock until the charge finally caught. A pink streak trailed the bike, like a little river: splitting out between the boards and widening out the further the motorcycle rode. Some people cleared the deck, but most were defiant till the bitter end. When he reached the edge, he jumped the brief but steep distance from dock to ship, and the sea vessel tipped irascibly. It was not designed to handle so much weight so suddenly. The passengers braced against the shift and almost didn't notice the dock imploding. The area crowded with photographers fell into the sea, spoiling their equipment and film.

Gambit removed his face-covered helmet as his children rushed to him. Now that the cameras were removed, they could relax. No more hiding or sneaking…

Storm, however, was eager to move on. "Shall I tell the captain we're ready to deport?"

.::.

We raced to the changing rooms with the same sort of excitement and chaos that preceded a mission. Even the petites were excited, although they had no idea what was happening. This was like a big birthday party to them. That energy turned to frustration as soon as we saw the rooms.

"What _is_ this? The last phone booth in New York?" Honor complained.

"Well, we're superheroes," Anna said bravely. "It's what we do."

She kissed me one last time as a single _femme_ and disappeared into the single stall-sized room. Between the tissue-paper walls, I could hear Anna fussing to put stockings on Becca. Honor's arm struck someone and they all giggled. Finally, Anna squeezed into her dress and they all panicked when the garter went missing. Not to worry – the tiny leg ornament was soon recovered, and they laughed again when Anna had to open the door to bend over and stretch her leg out.

"Girls are silly," my boy told me very seriously, apparently fed up with their chatter.

"_Fils_, you ain't got no idea."

I was helping Ollie into his little black and white suit when Mercy came for a chat. My boy shouted at her to leave because this was the "boys only" room, and although it was disrespectful, I agreed. She'd brought me nothing but misery, and she turned everything I gave her into a weapon against me. I ignored her, hoping she'd take the hint and leave. Instead, she pretended to wait patiently until I could give her my full attention. A direct look would likely melt her flesh, and for my brother's sake, I wouldn't do that. So she fished for my attention another way.

While polishing Ollie's shoes, she told him how she and I met.

"De first time I seen your papa, he was ten years old. Had a head full a' wild hair and eyes dat burned when he heard de word 'no'. Every time I see your papa, I see dat little boy. And look, you almost dat age now…"

"Whatchya want?" I asked irritably.

"I have a favor to ask. On dis, de day of your weddin'."

"I can hardly wait."

"Go to Paris. Please. You got no idea de trouble Luc gone t'rough t' get dat boy here, and now he too sick t' come!"

"I ain't movin' de weddin' t' Paris."

"Oh, no! Y' know what I mean, Remy! Visit de Guildmaster. For Honor's sake! You _seen_ de way dey looked at each other! This could be de piece we been _waitin'_ for-!"

"I ain't _pawnin'_ her off. You know when I'll agree t' let m' daughter marry? When she brings home de mooncatcher who puts stars in her eyes. Not till den."

"Who's t' say dat ain't Edgard?" She pressed. "Just let dem spend some time t'gether and see… Anyways, you can't just let her _pick_ somebody! You gotta t'ink about de _Guild_! Who will help her lead dem? If she doesn't marry Guild den Belle's boy inherits _everyt'ing_!"

"I don't know how t' say dis any clearer, Mercy. Dis _ain't_ your family! _Mon Dieu!_ You people make me sick dat I ever met you!"

For once, she was at a loss for words. Her eyes fell and she left. Whatever guilt I felt ignited when I saw Ollie's sad face. I'd underestimated how attached he'd become to this conniving clan who'd taken me in. He felt like I'd disowned him, too.

"_Désolé, cher_. Shouldn't fight in front of you. Your _tante_, she just a bitch. You know what a bitch is, _non_?"

His face split open with a grin. "Yeah… Dat's a bad word, Papa!"

"Only bad if y' get _caught_!"

Once dressed, we gladly bounded out of the tiny dressing room. The mirror was smaller than my television, so I double- and triple-checked things like my shirt tail and fly. (Couldn't trust Ollie to point them out.) I could smell something burning from the girls' room and hoped they were just straightening or curling their hair. I watched Ollie run up the stairs and out onto the sunny dock as Stormy descended the stairs and lightly brushed his hair in passing. She stopped me, and behind her I heard the coo of women as Ollie approached.

"Gambit, my apologies…" she said softly, "It seems we have another problem…"

"Hey, it's what we do best."

"Indeed… It would appear we've debarked without Father Newman."

"Oh." I really didn't have any words. We'd arrived over an hour late, which means that self-righteous prick was even later. If we'd waited all day, he probably wouldn't have made it. Secretly, I was planning on grabbing Anna, hijacking a raft and rowing back to shore.

"No cause for alarm," Stormy assured me. "It just so happens we have a substitute on board."

Behind her, I noticed Professor Xavier cautiously descending the hall in his hover chair.

"I have not been ordained by the Catholic Church, which I know was your preference for the occasion, but I am licensed by the state," he said. "As founder of the cause which first brought you and Rogue together, I'd like to think I played a role in the establishment of your exceptional and sprawling family. And nothing would give me greater joy than officiating this union. That is, of course, if you feel so obliged."

"You keep it short, Prof, and it'll be a joy for me, too."

"Wonderful!" Stormy clapped her hands together. "Let's find our places, shall we?"

There was absolutely no formality on my part, which was probably expected. Stormy and I strolled down the aisle hand-in-hand like two lovers on the beach and then she demurely stepped back, taking Ollie's hand to make sure he didn't get restless and run off. A short time later, Xavier joined us and waited patiently. The hundreds of eyes turned our way didn't seem to bother him at all, but they bothered me immensely. Sure, I know how to draw attention to myself, but there are times when a man prefers some privacy. I finally met those eyes head on. The most mismatched motley crew imaginably sat behind me: my father and his family, my ex-wife with hers and a man who could've easily passed for Hero's father, my lovely daughter, and a hodge-podge collection of young-old-black-white-tan-thieves-bosses-killers-witches. On Anna's side… Ironically, not that different. Blue-fire-Asian-Aussie-fat-slender-green hair-black hair-pixie wings. I saw Cyclops, too, without Emma for the first time in years. His younger kids were with him, though: Megan holding his hand and Baby Alexander on his knee. Everyone had an easy _tête-à-tête_, but only with those on their side of the aisle. Watching these oddballs, I felt something I had never expected… Gratitude? Pride? Better stuff those fluffy things back wherever they came from.

I focused instead on the weather, which was heavenly. The sun and breeze were soft and pleasant. I turned around to thank Storm, but she'd been looking elsewhere. Her eyes flashed to me and suddenly her smile was forced. I looked to where her eyes had been – Wolverine.

"You sure she's comin', Gumbo?" he asked. "Maybe the girl came to her senses."

"She's _gotta_ come," I said. "I've got her _kids_."

Everyone who'd been sitting down stood as one and Becca meandered out. She almost ran to Logan and half-hid behind his leg, but she was smiling and pretty as a China doll in her pink and white dress. I could've forgiven her anything for that smile.

Then Anna appeared. To be honest, I don't really know what happened after that. It was just her with the wind blowing her hair in her beaming face. She was the real reason any of us were here. Not just on that boat, but in this world. Our kids, my family and half our guests – all alive because of her. Even me. If it weren't for her, I'd be in an early grave with no one to remember my name. She deserved the rest of my life for my whole life.

"Hey handsome," she whispered.

"Hey," I whispered back, appalled at my own voice: sounded like I'd been in the girls' room during gym.

"Dearly beloved," Xavier's voice boomed, "We are gathered here today to witness the _legal_ joining together of Remy and Anna. I know many of you never thought this day would come… Not for lack of love, but for lack of love for tradition. And yet here we are! This is not the joining together of families: they were joined years ago in the eyes of God, and some time before that in our own hearts. This is a celebration of what love can overcome and endure… My only instructions for today were 'keep it short'-" he smiled, "So with that, I leave the words to them."

The old saying 'ladies first' doesn't apply to marriage vows, but just in case I forgot, Anna squeezed my hands to remind me. We used the same vows as last time, which were intentionally different from the ones I took with Belle. I remembered the words without even knowing I had remembered them.

"Wherever you go, I'll go… Wherever you stay, I'll stay wit' you. Your people are my people, your God is my God…" Her eyes glossed over and I felt something sharp stab my chest. I cleared my throat. "Where you die, I'll die and be buried wit' you. And may God strike me down if we part before that."

In the distance, I could hear my clan sniffing and crying. We're Catholic; we cry at every wedding, birth and funeral. Trouble was, everyone was looking at _me_.

"Wherever you go, I will go," she said proudly, "And where you stay, I will be with you. Your people are my people and your God, mine. Wherever you die, I will die, and be buried there with you. May God strike me down if anything but death separates you from me."

"By the giving of vows, you are man and wife!" Xavier proclaimed. "Remy, you may kiss your bride!"

There was a thunderous applause as I grabbed her head and planted a memorable kiss on her lips. A tear spilled on my thumb: one of those warm, happy droplets that mark the years.

…

If we could've left after that, life would've been perfect. Instead, we had to stay and shake everyone's hands and hear how happy they were for us. If they _really_ wanted to see me happy, they would've left me alone. I was more than willing to use my children as human shields. (Ollie was thirsty, Becca was about to spill punch on her dress, Honor was picking up some poor _femme_ at the bar who had no idea she was underage…) Unfortunately, everyone in the world was willing to "help" me today. So I had to meet Belle's _beau_ (a stony silent fellow who could still make her laugh), and look Drake in the eye after he ogled Anna's cleavage, and pretend not to hear Cyclops's cynical view on matrimony. His brother finally pulled him away, but Megan stayed close and played with my kids. Once she'd decided things had calmed down enough, she approached and asked, "Are you married now?"

"Oui, petite."

"Because you had a wedding?"

"Dat's right."

"My mommy and daddy used to be married," she said with big, sad, blue eyes. "But they aren't married anymore."

All the tears I'd been choking back all day suddenly surged forth. What could I possibly say to her?

"I'm sorry to hear dat, chere."

She rebounded effortlessly. "Can Ollie and Becca come play now?"

"Sure," I croaked. "Lemme get his vest off…"

"I have it," Stormy said dismissively. She dashed after him, stripped away his jacket and vest, and watched him run off with Becca, Hero and Megan. Lena was close behind them, so I turned my attention back to my most challenging child.

Honor held Edgard's food poisoning as an attack on her good reputation. Apparently, it was no excuse to stand her up. Even after the ceremony, she did nothing but gripe about being dateless. Who should come to her rescue? That Daumier boy. He swept in, moments before we walked into the reception room, offering his arm and company. He didn't even have a suit! But if I had the choice, I'd be wearing jeans and flannel shirt, too. And she just lit up at his appearance. Of course I couldn't tell her no. But I had no idea they'd be together all day – secluded even in this crowded room.

"Ah thought she hated him," Anna said, draping her arms around my shoulders.

It was the first time I'd sat down all day and I felt exhausted. I realized this was also the first private moment she and I'd had all day, and relaxed into her hold.

"Yeah, he's pretty disgustin'," I said.

"Ah dunno. He's got a certain… _charm_. They're like the lady and the tramp!"

My lip curled of its own accord. "Y' comparin' me t' _him_?"

"No, him to you… Is that a bad thing?"

"I know how dat cretin thinks. I know what he's after."

"Yeah, but she's your daughter, so she knows, too. Contrary ta your mighty high opinion of yourself, ya really _ain't_ that hard ta figure out, sweetie."

"She deserves better."

"Ah dunno…" Anna smiled, "Ah think Ah got the diamond in the rough."

"Chere, you got de diamond _and_ de rough."

She giggled and fell into my kiss. The crowd dispersed: everyone either finished bothering us or taking the hint to leave. This was my chance!

"Dat skirt lift easy?" I asked, expecting rejection.

"Depends on how well you starched those pants," She smiled.

That was all the encouragement I needed. Before anyone else could tangle us up, we were out of the reception room, down the hatch, and back into the dressing room. The girls' room was too full – I knew that without looking – so we stumbled into the less crowded room and slammed the door shut. I didn't bother with the lights: bold florescent says 'examination' more than it does 'romance'. I locked the door, lifted her up against it, and pushed up her skirt in a single motion. My hands moved up her thighs with less passion than usual (I didn't want to rip her dress), but she didn't repay my thoughtfulness. She tore open my fly and tried fishing my cock through the zipper, which sent me in a bit of a panic. I supported her with a knee while opening my belt and pants more completely. I really _didn't_ want to get castrated today…

She reached behind her back and I heard another zipper sliding open. Then she pushed the cap-sleeves down her arms and crunched the top and bottom of her dress at the wide, cream-colored ribbon that had accented her waist so delicately. When she reached behind again, she opened and discarded her bra, and leaned forward a little so that her breasts her pressed against me. I grabbed them both in my hands, loving the weight and warmth of them, and lifted them to my mouth. I rolled her nipples between my teeth, trying to decide which I preferred. She had both legs wrapped around my pelvis and rubbed against me, smearing her scent on my shirt tail. Frustrated, she groaned, and gripped at the door frame to pull herself up and gain the advantage. There was a soft _creeeak_ and then a loud _snap!_ as the door frame splintered under her grip. We both paused and glanced at the damage.

"Oops…" she said.

"Can't take you anywhere!"

I lifted her bottom and transplanted her to counter. An enormous splinter was the last thing either one of us wanted. She pulled me close with her legs and nearly tore open my shirt just to nibble on my neck. The physical strength she possessed and chose to repress for my safety was intoxicating. I loved watching her lose control, even if it resulted in a few bruises. Her hands slid down my stomach and I noticed the rest of her body followed suit. When I tried to stop her, she slapped my hands away and pinched my hips in her hands.

"Ah just wanna _taste_ you!"

It was no use fighting her, so I didn't bother. She dropped to her knees and ripped my pants down to my ankles before impatiently stroking my cock. At first, it was a shock, but then delicious – like jumping into a lake on a hot summer day. All the blood rushed to engorge my member, which itched to please her. She must've realized she was being rough and slowed down when I wanted her to speed up. Out of desperation, I pumped my hips back and forth to regain some friction. I heard her mewl and then felt the warm, wet greeting of her mouth. I sighed and tried not to thrust down her throat like a novice. Slowly, the lively creature that was her tongue stroked the underside of my cock, and her mouth created a gentle sucking sensation, taking in more and more as she found room for it. I gripped the counter top until my fingers hurt, and then fisted her hair for relief. Her head began to bob, sliding back and forth with ease and taking me deeper and deeper into her mouth. The last time we were together, I was far from impressive, so this time I closed my eyes and concentrated on the mechanics of unlocking a safe. But turning the lock reminded me of twisting her nipples and the clicking sounded like bed springs and opening the safe meant release and reward.

I didn't bother asking for her permission. At the risk of losing my dick, I ripped her away, turned her over the counter, and pushed her head down. I only glanced up to make sure she wasn't fighting me and saw her in the mirror. Her perfectly curled hair was tousled, her lips were swollen, and her bare breasts were pressed up against the faux-marble top. I frantically dug around in the sea of white lace to find her ass, which still sported a white G-string. There was a warm, moist little stain that I longed to taste, but the time for foreplay was over. I didn't bother to remove the garment properly; I just moved it aside and found my home between her legs. We fit together perfectly, always have. That's the benefit of taking a virgin. Yes, they're inexperienced and nervous, but afterwards they're molded to their lover. I felt it that night in Antarctica when we first made love. She was tight and unformed at first, but once her body relaxed, it was tailor-made. Like hand prints in cement, I returned time and again to find how perfectly we connected.

Anna hitched one leg up to the counter top and stood on her toes so her ass was more even with my hips. I was able to reach as deep as possible, and kept the pace furious so that she had to keep her hands braced against the mirror. She wanted to grab me, but couldn't find the angle and time for everything she wanted, and her hands left faint pale streaks on the glass when she squirmed. I felt her cunt alternate between weeping and gripping, and the longer she was helpless, the more frequently she responded. She was close because I rode her G-spot from this position, and I wanted to bring her to climax… But not like this. I wanted to _see_ her.

I pulled out and turned her around. For once, she didn't throw me up against the wall and rape the hell out of me. Our lips warmly met again, easing together as our bodies followed. She gently held my face and we made love on top of her dress in a closet beneath our wedding party. I laced one hand in her hair and used the other to hold her ass: it was rocking rather precariously on the ledge. Her eyes locked with mine and I knew what she was thinking. _'It's not enough.'_ What I felt for this woman couldn't be expressed in words or rites, and while sex came close, it wasn't enough, either. I felt something like panic curl in my belly and rise to my chest while her inner walls gripped me again. I cradled her close and gave in to my caveman impulse to fuck her. I wanted to bury my seed deep in her womb and watch our love come to life. This time, she clenched and melted at the same time, and when she peaked, she took me with her. I'd been fucking since I was old enough to pull my pants down and ejaculating since I had balls – nothing new there. But with Anna, it _was_ new. It was something special. For her, I'd suffer all the stupid ceremonies in the world.

.

_Fin._

**Author's Notes:** The vows come from Ruth 1:16-17 of the Bible, and I think they're terribly romantic… Much more so than the traditional ones. Hope this finale was well worth the insane wait – I know a lot of people were waiting for a long time. I apologize. As I was writing this chapter, it suddenly occurred to me that I'd never read a fic like this, so I hope it makes the ROMY world a little sweeter. Thanks for your patience, and – as always – please leave a review!


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